When Things Start to Change New
by Hermione-G-Weasley
Summary: NEW CHAPTERS HERE: Starts between fourth and fifth year. Harry meets up with his friends to find Hermione sporting a new look- Ron notices, too. And Ginny's got a completely different personality. Continues through 5th year.
1. Back to the Burrow

A/N: I had to rework this and repost it under as a whole new story due to some technical problems. If you would like to read past reviews, please visit the other version of this which goes until Chapter 6. Thank you all.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing in this story, of course!  
  
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Harry Potter woke the day before his fifteenth birthday feeling extremely elated. This was quite a different feeling from the one he usually experienced while waking up during the summer holiday. Usually, he woke with thoughts of what he was going to do to pass the time in his aunt and uncle's house or with thoughts of what his uncle could possibly think of to chew him out about that day. For as long as he could remember his mornings had always been filled with these thoughts- that is to say the mornings he spent on Privet Drive with Vernon and Petunia Dursley and their wretched oaf of a son Dudley. The mornings he had spent away at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were, on the other hand, quite pleasant for the most part.  
  
That's why he was feeling so chipper about waking up on that particular July morning. No, it wasn't the start of a new year at Hogwarts, but it was as close as you could get. In fact, it might even be better.  
  
Harry was leaving that day to go to the Burrow where he would spend the rest of his summer holiday with his best friend Ron Weasley and Ron's family. The Weasleys were Harry's absolute favorite family in the world, and the prospect of spending a month and a half with them was almost enough to make up for the month he had spent on Privet Drive.  
  
Harry glanced at his watch and smiled to himself. 6:36 AM. The Weasleys would be arriving in exactly three hours and twenty-four minutes- if they were on time for once, that is. Ron had sent him a letter by Owl Post three days before saying that they would arrive at 10:00 AM to collect him and to be ready because, as Ron wrote, "Dad reckons he's not too welcome there, and he doesn't want to impose on the Muggles." Well, Mr. Weasley was right, of course. He wasn't welcome in the Dursleys house, and the last time the Weasleys had arrived to pick Harry up, Uncle Vernon had made quite sure that was a well-known fact. Ron had also assured Harry that they would be arriving by car this time. They certainly didn't need anymore incidents with the fireplace, which the Dursleys had once again sealed to what Uncle Vernon said was "unbreakable."  
  
Harry really didn't care one way or the other, though. He was just thankful that he was getting out of the Dursley's house quite a bit earlier than he had in the previous summers. To be quite honest, he didn't care if he left Privet Drive and never saw it again for as long as he lived. If he lived in an ideal world, he would stay with the Weasleys every day of summer holiday and every day of the Christmas holiday and even every day of the Easter holiday. Well, actually, in his ideal world, he would live with his parents. But that was impossible. His parents had died fourteen years ago when he had just been a baby. He didn't remember them at all, but he knew that they would definitely fancy the Weasleys looking after him much more than they would the Dursleys. But Harry had been told that it was for his own safety that he was sent to live with the Dursleys; they were Muggles, and apparently Harry would be kept much safer in their care. He didn't see why, though; the Dursleys  
  
wouldn't even notice if his hair was on fire and he was choking to death on a piece of spinach at the same time. So, Harry often wondered exactly what it was about Privet Drive that was so much safer for him than a home in the Wizarding community.  
  
Anyway, he didn't want to ponder that now. All he wanted to do was get his things packed so that when the Weasleys pulled up in their car (hopefully), he would be ready and waiting to jump in and head off to the Burrow. The sooner the better!  
  
Harry reached for his glasses which rested on his nightstand and then sat up and stretched. The sun was pouring through his window already, and he could barely stand the anticipation of what was coming for later that morning. He could hear his aunt in the kitchen bustling around with pans and skillets. He really wasn't anxious for breakfast, but he knew that he would have a long ride ahead of him on the way to the Burrow. The last time he had gone there by car it had taken half a night. And they had been flying then- he had no idea how long it would take traveling on normal Muggle roads. He thought perhaps that the Weasleys would know of a magical way to make the car arrive quicker without resorting to flying, but he pushed the thought out of his head when he realized that Mr. Weasley probably enjoyed long car trips; they gave him an excuse to spend hours in a Muggle vehicle. So, deciding that he did indeed wanted some breakfast before the trip, Harry pulled on the clothes  
  
he had set out the night before and trudged down the stairs.  
  
Aunt Petunia was indeed in the kitchen banging around with her pots and pans, but she didn't appear to actually be cooking. Harry slid over to the table, which was currently empty, and stared at her. When she didn't acknowledge his presence, he finally spoke. "Good morning." It was an attempt at being nice on his last morning with the Muggles for what would be at least another year.  
  
She looked at him as though he had grown a second head. "Good morning? Good morning? Yeah, it'll be a good morning alright when those... those... things show up at our house in another outrageous fashion like they did last year!"  
  
"Well, they better show up in a decent matter this year," barked Uncle Vernon who had appeared at the doorway. "Or I'll give that Winston fellow a piece of my mind!"  
  
"Weasley." Harry rolled his eyes as his uncle and aunt stared at him.  
  
"Come again?" Uncle Vernon sat down across the table and glared at his nephew.  
  
"I said Weasley. His name's Weasley not Winston." Harry looked down at the table, suddenly pretending to be very interested in the design on the china.  
  
"I don't care what his name is!" Uncle Vernon snarled his words about Mr. Weasley in the same fashion he always snarled his words when addressing Harry. "If he shows up here using any of his... unusual means... I'll have something to say about it!"  
  
"Haven't you always got something to say about it?" Harry avoided his uncle's eye.  
  
"What?! Don't get sassy with me, boy!" His words were violently toned, but Harry didn't give it a second thought. He was used to being addressed in such a fashion; he had lived with that sort of treatment his entire life.  
  
"Well, you don't have to worry," Harry finally looked up and made eye contact. "Ron told me that they're definitely coming in a car this time."  
  
"Who's coming in a car?" Dudley appeared at the table still looking rather tired. He was an extremely massive boy despite the fact that he had been on a strict diet for over a year now. It hadn't helped at all. He still managed to take up an entire side of the kitchen table.  
  
"The Weasleys," Harry said flatly.  
  
Dudley grinned. "Oh, yeah. Those freaks are coming to get you today, eh? I nearly forgot."  
  
Harry glared across the table at his cousin. "They're not freaks," he said warningly.  
  
"Yeah? The last time they were here, I ended up with a tongue that went past my bloody knees! Sounds pretty freakish to me!"  
  
Harry snickered at the memory. "It was a joke. One you obviously couldn't see the humor in." He narrowed his eyes. "And it's your own fault for being so greedy."  
  
Uncle Vernon looked up from his paper and shot Harry a warning look. "You'd do good to stop talking while you're ahead."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes and looked down at his empty plate again. When he saw his uncle pick the paper up again, he leaned in closer to Dudley and whispered, "And if I've got any luck, they'll put a hex on you this time."  
  
Dudley gasped loudly and over-dramatically. "Mum! Dad! Harry just threatened me with ma... well, you know! He said he was going to put a hex on me so that I'd die tonight!"  
  
Harry laughed loudly at his cousin's story, but his aunt and uncle did not share his amusement.  
  
Aunt Petunia rushed to Dudley's side and began smoothing his hair down in a great over-done fashion. And Uncle Vernon stood up from his chair and towered over Harry menacingly. "You can forget about breakfast! You get upstairs!"  
  
Harry sighed loudly and rose from his chair. He slammed it up against the table and shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, I don't care. Mrs. Weasley is the most fabulous cook in the entire world, and I'm sure she'll have a magnificent meal planned for when we arrive." Harry snuck a look at Dudley who was hanging onto his every word. "We'll probably have all sorts of steak and pork and great casseroles. And, oh, her desserts," he licked his lips for effectiveness. "Her desserts are the best I've ever had in my life. She makes great trifles with all sorts of jam and cream... I can hardly wait!"  
  
Dudley was nearly drooling.  
  
Uncle Vernon ignored his son and growled at Harry. "You keep talking, and you won't be going at all."  
  
Harry smiled at him. "Oh? Fancy me staying here for two more months, do you?"  
  
Uncle Vernon sighed, defeated. "Get upstairs and pack your things!"  
  
Harry smiled triumphantly and climbed the stairs to his tiny second floor bedroom. His clothes were already packed away in his trunk; he had done that the night before. All he had to do now was pack his school things and the few other items he had to take and he would be done. He pulled up the floorboard by his bed and pulled out the items he treasured most one by one. Inside the secret compartment was the photograph album Hagrid, the Hogwarts groundskeeper, had given him at the end of his first year. It was filled with pictures of his parents, and Harry took the chance to glance at it quickly before packing it into his trunk. His mum and dad were smiling and waving at him from the album below. He smiled back and then closed the book and placed it in his trunk. Then he pulled out his broomstick, the Firebolt, the top Quidditch broomstick so far invented, and placed it carefully in his trunk, along with the broomstick care package he had received for his thirteenth birthday.  
  
He pulled out several more items, including the Marauder's Map he had received from Ron's older brothers and the invisibility cloak he had inherited from his father.  
  
Once Harry was done packing up all his school items, he glanced at his watch again. His heart jumped. It was already 9:48. He hadn't realized it was getting so late! He couldn't wait for the Weasleys to show up. Twelve minutes, he told himself. Just twelve minutes!  
  
The twelve minutes passed quickly, and Harry was surprised to hear a car pull into the drive at exactly ten o'clock. The Weasleys had a reputation for being late everywhere they went; it was a reputation Harry had picked up from Ron when it came to class.  
  
He raced down the stairs just in time to hear the doorbell ring. Uncle Vernon stopped him, however, from opening the door. "Get back," he said as he, himself, opened the door.  
  
Harry stood beside his aunt and peered around Uncle Vernon to make sure that it was the Weasleys. It was indeed. Mr. Weasley stood on the doorstep along with his two youngest children, Ron and Ginny.  
  
"Well, come in then," said Uncle Vernon in a voice he didn't even force to be cordial.  
  
Mr. Weasley smiled nonetheless and stepped inside followed by Ron and Ginny. He held out his hand but seemed unfazed when it was ignored. "We drove this time." He laughed slightly, trying to make light of the mess that had occurred last summer when they had burst through the Dursley's fireplace causing a huge mess.  
  
Uncle Vernon shook his head. "It's a good thing, too."  
  
Mr. Weasley chose not to ask why it was such a good thing. Instead he turned his attention to Harry. Patting him on the shoulder, he smiled warmly. "How ya' doing, Harry?"  
  
"Good, sir. Thanks." Harry looked over at Ron and Ginny who were both grinning mischievously from behind their father. "Hey, Ron. Ginny." He eyed them suspiciously.  
  
"Harry, I've never seen your house or met your family before," said Ginny, grinning sweetly at Aunt Petunia.  
  
"Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, Dudley. This is Ginny." Harry swung his head in the direction of each person he referred to.  
  
"It's very nice to meet you all. You have a lovely house." Ginny smiled wildly at them. "Harry, would you like Ron and me to help you with your things?"  
  
"Er.. Sure." Harry had never seen Ginny be so friendly with strangers before. She was usually painfully shy. Nevertheless, he left Mr. Weasley and the Dursleys downstairs and led Ron and Ginny to his room.  
  
Once they were out of earshot, he looked at them pointedly. "What are you two up to?"  
  
Ron raised his eyebrows. "We're not up to anything. Who do we look like? Fred and George?"  
  
Harry cocked his head to the side and peered at them. "Well... Maybe if you were a bit shorter, Ron. And maybe if Ginny's nose were a little wider..." He laughed as they glared at him. "Where are they anyway?" Fred and George were the next youngest children in the Weasley family- identical twins.  
  
"Ah, Mum's blessing them out because she saw them trying to sneak some Canary Creams out this morning to bring on the trip. She got so upset and started bellowing on about what happened last time with the Ton Tongue Toffee, and she wouldn't let them go." Ron shrugged his shoulders as though it didn't faze him in the least. But Harry supposed that Fred and George got blessed out at least twice a day by someone somewhere, so it was just a normal occurrence in the Weasley house.  
  
"Anyway, Harry, you weren't lying about your cousin!" Ginny giggled quietly. "How do they even fit him in a desk at school?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "I dunno. I've never cared to ask." He motioned for Ron. "Will you give me hand with this? Ginny, can you grab Hedwig and bring her down?"  
  
She nodded, willing to do anything to help Harry. It was no secret that she was quite taken with him. It was to her own dismay, though, that he seemed to think of her as nothing more than an almost kid sister. She walked over and picked up the cage which held a beautiful snowy white owl by the name of Hedwig. Harry and Ron both groaned as they lifted the heavy trunk and moved toward his doorway. It was quite an accomplishment getting it down the stairs and to the car, but they managed. Once the car was packed, they returned back into the house to say their good-byes.  
  
"Well, it was nice seeing you again, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley." Mr. Weasley smiled at them in one last attempt to be friendly. Neither of them would have it, though, as they both simply nodded and tried their best not to make eye-contact with him.  
  
"It was very nice meeting you all." Once again, Ginny had stepped forward and was talking to them as though she hadn't noticed they were ignoring her. She walked over to the corner where Dudley had been standing, obviously afraid of another mishap, and smiled innocently at him. "And you, Dudley." She held out her hand.  
  
Dudley stole a glance at his mother and father and then turned back to Ginny. He couldn't get past the fact that she was a girl. And that she was speaking to him. So, he accepted her hand and returned the smile. Blushing furiously, he muttered. "Nice to meet you."  
  
She gave him one last grin and removed her hand. Then she crossed the room to join the others as they were walking out the door.  
  
"Well, bye," called Harry. The Dursleys glared at him in response. He shrugged it off and turned to walk out the door but not before noticing that Dudley's hand was slowly turning rather circular. He stifled a giggle as Dudley himself noticed and let out an extremely loud yell. His hand had now taken the shape of a tennis racket, and he was waving it around in what looked extremely close to the way he would look in a real match.  
  
Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon rushed to their son's side, and Harry heard Uncle Vernon let out a string of words he never would have normally said in the presence of company. Mr. Weasley closed his eyes f or a brief moment and then turned to glare warningly at Ron and Ginny. "In the car," he said flatly. "Now." He then rushed back into the house assuring the Dursleys that he could take care of it.  
  
Harry burst into laughter as soon as the three of them had settled into the old car Mr. Weasley had recently bought second-hand. "What was that all about?"  
  
Ginny bit her lower lip as she held up her hand which was covered in a greenish sort of gel. "It's Weasley's Own Special Sports Gel. Fred and George just invented it two weeks ago. Instead of healing a sports injury it turns the body part you spread it on into a piece of sports equipment. Doesn't work on me, of course. Fred and George are making each of their items with the family name in the title so that it won't affect anyone with Weasley blood."  
  
"Or so they say," finished Ron. "I'm sure they'll come up with some Weasley product that we'll think we're immune to, and it'll nip us right in the bud. I don't trust those two any further than I can throw them."  
  
Ginny laughed as she wiped her hand on a piece of cloth she pulled from under the seat. "Mum hasn't seen this invention yet. They've made a lot of new stuff this summer! Really planning on opening that shop next year, I suppose."  
  
Harry had helped to fund the opening of that shop, but he didn't mention it. "You're really in for it, though. If your dad tells your mum that you..." He shook his head and couldn't help but laugh.  
  
Ginny shrugged. "Oh, I don't mind. I can get out of most anything with Mum. She's too concerned with watching the twins to notice anything Ron or I do. And anyway, Dad probably won't tell. He'll just blabber the whole way home."  
  
Almost as if on cue, Mr. Weasley came rushing from the front door of the Dursley house and slid into the front driver seat. He turned at once to Ginny who was in the front passenger seat. "You should be ashamed!"  
  
"Ah, Dad. It's just a joke." Ginny smiled at her father. Harry noticed that Ginny had been doing a lot of smiling today. Maybe it was her way of trying to appear innocent.  
  
Mr. Weasley threw the car into reverse and pulled out onto the road, driving as quickly as possible away from the Dursley house where Harry was sure he could still hear Uncle Vernon yelling and Dudley crying. "I can't believe that you, Ginny, would do this!"  
  
Ron leaned over and whispered into Harry's ear. "Let's see her sweet talk her way out of this one."  
  
Ginny sighed as she crossed her arms over her chest. "I was just having a little fun. And anyway, I can't help it."  
  
"Can't help what?" Mr. Weasley seemed very interested to hear exactly what it was that couldn't be helped.  
  
"I can't help playing jokes. It's not as if I don't have the masters at home to learn from," she said pointedly. "It's in my blood."  
  
Mr. Weasley rolled his eyes. "In your blood, eh? Well, if that's the case, why is it that Percy and Bill and Charlie don't have it in their blood?" Those were the three oldest Weasley children.  
  
Ginny shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it just kicked in for the younger half."  
  
Ron let out a snicker from behind his father.  
  
Mr. Weasley looked into the rearview mirror at his youngest son. "Funny, Ron? I suppose it's in your blood, too?"  
  
Ron held up his hands. "Hey, don't go throwing me into everything that crazy twit says," he said, motioning at his little sister.  
  
Ginny turned around and glared at him. "Daddy, he just called me a twit!"  
  
"Don't call your sister names, you hear?" said Mr. Weasley angrily to Ron's reflection.  
  
Ron's mouth dropped open as he turned to Harry. "Do you see how she manages to ALWAYS turn the blame away from herself?"  
  
Harry wanted desperately to laugh, but he didn't dare. That's all he needed was Ron sulking up and accusing him of siding with Ginny. So, he simply nodded slightly and looked out the window, so he wouldn't burst into a fit of laughter at any moment.  
  
"What would your mother think if I told her that our two youngest, most innocent children were causing mischief with the same Muggle two of our other children managed to turn into a ton tongued helpless creature only a year before?" Mr. Weasley was shaking his head.  
  
Harry couldn't help himself from snorting at his words, though. First off, although Ginny may have stayed, for the most part, out of mischief up until now, Ron had never been anywhere close to innocent. And calling Dudley a helpless creature?! That was a year's worth of laughs in itself!  
  
Ron snuck a glance at Harry, and he, too, couldn't help but give a little chortle. They both tried to quiet themselves quickly, but Mr. Weasley heard them and once again looked into the mirror. This time from Ron to Harry and back to Ron.  
  
"What's so funny, you two? Things you haven't been telling us?"  
  
Harry saw Ginny look quickly out the window, so she, too, wouldn't start to laugh. Harry and Ron had broken every school rule in the books at least once in their four years at Hogwarts. There was no way either of them should be given the title of innocent. But they both just shook their heads seriously and murmured, "No, Sir," quietly.  
  
The trip to the Burrow didn't take as long as Harry had expected. Mr. Weasley had finally given up lecturing, telling them that he would spare them from Mrs. Weasley this one time, but that was it. So, the rest of the trip had been filled with talk of what was to come for the rest of the summer. Harry was delighted to know that the Weasleys were planning a trip to the coast for the weekend after next. He couldn't wait! He had never even been to the beach for a day, much less a week long vacation like the Weasleys had planned.  
  
When they finally reached the Burrow, Mr. Weasley stopped the car and told them not to worry about the trunk right away. He said he would take care of it later, so Harry grabbed Hedwig's cage and hurried up the drive after Ron and Ginny.  
  
The house, though small as it was, was an extremely welcoming sight to Harry's eyes. The Weasleys lived in exactly the kind of home he had always dreamed of. A home built not by material things, as the Dursleys so loved to show off, but by family and love. Mrs. Weasley was in the kitchen, and when Harry, Ron, and Ginny walked through the door, she came rushing into the foyer to greet them. She at once wrapped her arms around Harry and hugged him tightly.  
  
"Oh, Harry, dear! How are you?" She beamed as she led him into the kitchen and pushed him into a seat at the table. "Things better with the Muggles?"  
  
Harry smiled at her, but shook his head. "No, they're the same people they've always been."  
  
She looked angry for a moment and muttered, "You'd think with all you'd been through last year, they'd show an ounce of humanity."  
  
Mr. Weasley kissed his wife on the cheek. "Molly, they probably don't even know about You Know Who and everything that happened. They choose to ignore the magical side of the world."  
  
Mrs. Weasley still looked bitter. Her demeanor changed, however, when she noticed Harry hungrily eyeing the ham she had pulled out of the oven moments before their arrival. "Hungry, dear?" she asked gaily. "Of course, you are! It was quite a road trip, I'm sure. You're probably famished! Probably haven't eaten since breakfast."  
  
"I didn't have any breakfast," he admitted.  
  
Mrs. Weasley looked astonished. "Someone needs to teach those Muggles a thing or two! Why, if I'd seen that woman.."  
  
"Molly, calm down," urged Mr. Weasley.  
  
For a long while, Mrs. Weasley had never spoken ill of the Dursleys in front of Harry, but it seemed as if those days had passed. "Well, just imagine! Depriving a growing young man of his food! Why, I've never!"  
  
Harry watched with a bit of hidden amusement as Mrs. Weasley raved on and on about Aunt Petunia not knowing how to properly care for a growing boy. He was even more amused when Ginny spoke up from her place beside him at the table.  
  
"Mum, if you'd seen the other boy, you'd know why Harry can't eat! Probably all the food in their city goes into his afternoon snack!"  
  
Harry couldn't hide the smile from his face, and Ron couldn't contain the laughter that erupted from deep inside him. But perhaps the funniest thing, was the voice that sounded from behind them.  
  
"Oh, so you met Dudley, eh, Gin?" It was Fred Weasley. George entered behind him as they sat down at the table between their dad and Ron.  
  
George gave a gruff laugh. "Pity his tongue hadn't stayed that big. It gave him more proportion. That ton tongue fit the rest of his body perfectly."  
  
"Yeah, he probably could have had a world record for the largest Muggle to ever walk the earth."  
  
Ginny giggled. "I don't think the loss of the tongue would take that title from him."  
  
Ron, though he didn't speak, glanced over at Harry, and was greatly pleased to see that Harry was enjoying himself so much. To be quite honest, he had been worried about Harry ever since they had left Hogwarts the year before. A lot had happened then, and Ron had worried about how Harry was taking it. He wouldn't admit his concern verbally, of course, but still, it was nice to see for himself that Harry appeared to be quite fine.  
  
"So, how ya' doing, mate?" George raised an eyebrow at Harry.  
  
Harry shrugged. "I'm alright. Fine now; that's for sure."  
  
Mrs. Weasley brought the ham over to the table and set it down. "Yes, that's for sure. Don't you worry, Harry. While you're here with us, we'll keep you well-fed if nothing else. Fred?" She gestured towards one of the twins.  
  
They both laughed as the one she was speaking to said, "I'm George, Mum. But never mind." He picked up the knife on the plate and began to slice the ham. Had he been of legal wizard status, he would have simply waved his wand and let the ham be sliced by itself. The twins, however, still had one year to complete in Hogwarts, so they, along with Ron, Harry, and Ginny, were not permitted to use magic outside of the school grounds.  
  
As everyone was helping themselves to the baked ham, Harry saw Fred lean across the table to Ginny. "So, did it work?"  
  
Ginny grinned and whispered. "He looked like he was practicing for Wimbledon!" The Weasley children knew more about Muggle sports than most pureblooded children simply because they spent so much time with people raised in Muggle homes and the fact that their father was a bit obsessed with the Muggle way of life.  
  
"Wicked," muttered Fred as he leaned back to sit properly in his seat and gave his identical twin brother a rather low high five under the table.  
  
All of this went unnoticed by Mr. Weasley who was buried into a copy of The Daily Prophet, the nationally accepted newspaper for witches, wizards, and other magical creatures. He was frowning slightly; though, he didn't appear as wishing to be bothered. Still, he muttered, "Diagon Alley," under his breath.  
  
"What about it, Dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley as she finally sat down at the table between her husband and Ginny.  
  
Mr. Weasley looked up, slightly taken aback at the sudden question. "Huh? Oh! Well, there's been a new Dark Arts supply store opened right on Diagon Alley. It says here that they're claiming they've just as much right as anyone else to open a store there. Saying they dare anyone to try and stop them." He wrinkled the paper a bit by grasping it so hard in his now tightly clenched fists.  
  
"Well, haven't they got just as much right, Dad?" Ginny looked up from her spinach questioningly.  
  
"Well, yeah, I suppose. There's no law saying that only supporters of the good side are allowed to open shop on Diagon Alley... It's just... The blasted nerve of them!" His eyes were really beginning to spark with anger. "What's the ministry to do when this sort of stuff keeps happening everywhere?"  
  
With the mention of the ministry, Harry noticed one face missing that usually graced the table along with everyone else. "Where's Percy?" Percy was a very recent Hogwarts graduate and was now working for the Ministry of Magic.  
  
Mrs. Weasley gave a slight sniffle, and Harry felt Ron pinch him rather hardly under the table. He let out a squeak of pain as Mr. Weasley hastened to answer the question. "Well, the Ministry's sent him out to do a bit of top-secret work. They've come to trust him most completely over the past year. We're sure he's fine," he finished, glancing at his wife who was now teary eyed.  
  
"But we haven't heard from him in over three weeks," sniffed Mrs. Weasley. "I just hope he's alright."  
  
Harry, regretting that he'd ever brought up the subject, smiled sort of reassuringly at her. "Don't worry, Mrs. Weasley. I'm sure he's just fine."  
  
She gave him a half-smile as she glanced around the table to see what progress everyone had made on their plates. All the boys had eaten three full plates, and even Ginny had eaten more than her usual. Mrs. Weasley raised her own wand, and within moments, the table had been completely cleared of their dirty plates and replaced with a heaping helping of Mrs. Weasley's raspberry tart at each place sitting.  
  
"Good job, Mum!" said Ron as he dug in enthusiastically. If there was one way in the world to shut Ron Weasley up completely, it was to put anything containing sugar in front of him. Give him enough sweets, and you'd never hear from him again.  
  
Harry's mouth watered at the mere memory of what the delectable treat tasted like, and he quickly glanced around. All six of the Weasleys at the table were eating away in record speed, so Harry wasted no more time. He picked up his spoon and took a bite. It was absolutely splendid! Harry smiled knowing that Dudley would give his right arm for what he was enjoying at that moment; he smiled even wider as he pictured Dudley with the right arm of a tennis racket. What had gotten into Ginny Weasley since they had left Hogwarts a little over a month ago? She was definitely not acting her normal self, but Harry didn't have time to ponder it. Not with all this delicious cream tart in front of him and the prospect of seconds waving at him in the very near future. 


	2. Jealousy

Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling, so therefore I am not rich enough to sue over a silly little fanfiction.  
  
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After dinner, Fred and George had insisted on showing Harry some of their new inventions. They led Ron and Harry and Ginny into their room which was remarkably cleaner than the way their dormitory looked at Hogwarts. The Weasley twins were known for being huge mess-makers, so Harry wasn't sure what exactly he was looking at as he stepped into the small room they shared and glanced around at the neatly made beds and the freshly ironed clothes hanging in the closet.  
  
"Wow," said Harry, impressed. "Why's everything so clean in here?"  
  
George laughed. "Well, if we keep the room spotless, Mum never comes in to muddle around and try and fix things. Keeping things tidy decreases our chances of having our new inventions discovered by nearly eighty-six percent."  
  
Harry didn't even bother asking how they had come up with such an exact percentage. He simply walked across the room and sat down on Fred's bed. Ginny sat across from him on George's bed, and Ron stayed standing by the doorway to keep an ear peeled for signs of either of the adult Weasleys.  
  
Fred and George looked at each other and then George reached down and pulled up a loose floorboard, not unlike the one in Harry's room on Privet Drive. Harry craned his neck to see what was in it, but Fred stepped in front of him to block him.  
  
"Uh-uh-uh, Potter," he said smiling. "No peeking. There's still many works in progress down there. You only see what we show you."  
  
Harry nodded. Fair enough. "So, I saw the Weasley's Own Special Sports Gel. Pretty good," he said approvingly.  
  
Fred continued to smile. "Well, we weren't sure it'd work exactly. There's no one here to try it on, you know, because of the Weasley immunity. Actually, we were thinking of turning your foot into a football when you showed up, but Ron threatened he tell Mum if we did."  
  
Harry smiled at Ron who was grinning at him from the doorway. "Thanks, Ron."  
  
Ron just shrugged. "No problem."  
  
"Anyway," continued George, "Ginny was actually the one to come up with the idea to test it on Dudley. She must have heard us tell the tale of the Ton Tongue Toffee a million times." He smiled at his little sister. "So, she thought it up all on her own. Reckon she's gonna be alright, this one."  
  
Ginny couldn't seem to stop smiling at all that day. Usually when Harry was around, she was an absolute mess. She had a habit of breaking things out of nervousness when she was around him, but the day had passed without so much as a broken tea cup. In fact, she was being rather peculiar. Different somehow- bold and witty.  
  
Before anyone could speak another word, though, a loud pecking was heard at the window. All four sets of eyes followed the sound and noticed a tiny brown owl pecking away furiously at the glass. Ron rolled his eyes as he crossed the window and let her in, muttering, "Stupid Pig," the whole way.  
  
Pigwidgeon, or Pig as Ron loathingly called it, was a tiny, overly-excited owl which Ron had gotten the year before. The moment the window was open, Pig flew in hurriedly and began circling the room in a horrid fit of attention-needing. It was George who reached up and untied the letter which it was holding. He glanced at it and threw it at Harry.  
  
Harry looked down at his lap at the letter and at once recognized the handwriting of Hermione Granger, his and Ron's other best friend from Hogwarts. "It's from Hermione," he said.  
  
Ron immediately spun around and seated himself beside Harry. He grabbed the letter and said, "Here. Let me read it."  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow at him, but nonetheless sat quietly while Ron read the letter aloud.  
  
Dear Ron and Harry,  
  
I hope this reaches you both together, so that I don't have to write two separate letters. Things are good with me. How about with the two of you? I'm in Bulgaria at the moment, visiting Viktor. I'm having a lovely time, and I hope that the two of you are having brilliant summer holidays as well.  
  
Harry noticed Ron's voice take a disgusted sort of tone when he read the part about Bulgaria and Viktor. Looking up at Harry, he rolled his eyes. "Lovely time? Yeah, I'm sure she is," he said sarcastically. "Following that nutter around with huge puppy dog eyes going, 'Oh, Viky! How simply lovely!' Please!" Ron had taken to imitating Hermione's voice, however poorly, on the last part. Rolling his eyes one more time, he returned them to the letter.  
  
I'm excited about the new start of term. I've already started reading our Fifth Year Book of Spells. It looks as though there will be some terribly difficult ones this year. Should be great fun!  
  
Ron snorted through laughter. "That girl has got serious mental problems! She's reading her school books already, and we're not even half-way through holiday yet! And great fun?! Harry, how did we ever manage to make Hermione Granger as a friend?"  
  
It was true. Hermione was nothing at all like Harry and Ron. Both Ron and Harry were just as content dozing in class as they were listening. Hermione, however, wouldn't miss a class if you offered to pay her fifty galleons. She was never seen without a huge load of books, and she spent as much time in the library as most of the students spent in their own dormitories. But somehow, the three of them had wound up as best friends. Harry, himself, didn't understand it half the time, but the fact was that having the girl who was top of every class as your best friend came in quite handy sometimes.  
  
Ron continued the letter.  
  
Anyway, I hope that this letter finds you alright. I sent it back with Pigwidgeon after Ron sent me the note to let me know that Harry was coming to stay with him. We all know how that owl is, though. Ron, I don't mean to speak ill of your owl, but it is quite dumb, isn't it?  
  
Ron let out a small gasp. He appeared to have taken great offense to this. "What's she calling dumb? She's the one with that idiotic cat, isn't she?" Hermione's cat, Crookshanks, was anything but idiotic, but Harry chose not to comment. He urged Ron to finish the letter.  
  
The main reason I'm writing, though, is to inform you both that I won't be seeing you until September 1st on the Hogwarts Express. Once I leave Bulgaria, Mum and Dad want me to go to Ireland with them for the rest of the holiday. There's a dentist convention there, and Mum is quite insistent that I go with them. We won't be done there until the end of August, and that will just barely leave me enough time to get to train.  
  
Ron couldn't hide the look of disappointment that covered his face as he read that. "She was supposed to come stay with us a few weeks before school started." He wrinkled his nose angrily. "But she wasn't too busy to run off to Bulgaria, now was she?"  
  
Harry chose not to comment.  
  
I really do hope that you two have fun together at the beach. I wish I could be there, but some things can't be helped. I'll see you soon, though. Have a great rest of the holiday, and try to stay out of trouble. Especially you, Harry.  
  
Harry and Ron both laughed at this. It was just like Hermione to finish a sentence about having a great holiday with "stay out of trouble."  
  
Think about me while you're lying on the beach staring at the ocean, and I'll think about you while I'm lying on a hotel bed staring at reruns on the telly. Actually, the trip to Ireland might be an excellent opportunity to brush up on some of the fifth year studies. I could read ahead a bit.  
  
"A bit?" Ron laughed. "She'll have the whole lot of our books completely finished and be working on the sixth year before we even start fall term!"  
  
Anyway, I should go. Viktor gets out of Quidditch training in a few minutes, and I'm supposed to meet him for tea. Give my best wishes to the twins, Ginny, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Percy, Bill, or Charlie if you happen to see them. Have a great time! Bye!  
  
Love from,  
  
Hermione  
  
Harry couldn't help noticing that Ron blushed a bit as he read the "love from" part, despite the fact that she had signed every letter she had ever sent them since the age of eleven like that. Ron stared at the letter for a moment more and then looked up at Harry.  
  
"Just like that! She completely blows us off for that stupid Bulgarian bozo!"  
  
Fred laughed out loud. "A bit jealous of Viktor Krum, bro?"  
  
Harry had forgotten that they were still in the room with Fred, George, and Ginny. They were all smiling snidely at Ron who was now blushing an even deeper shade of crimson.  
  
Ron looked down, embarrassed. "No, I'm not jealous. I'm just mad that she would choose to visit him, a boy she's known only for a few months, over us, her best friends for four years." He didn't look angry, though. In fact, he looked rather hurt.  
  
"Well, she didn't know her parents were going to drag her off to Ireland," pointed out Harry. "She really couldn't help it."  
  
Ron shrugged. "Oh, who cares anyway? It's just Hermione."  
  
Harry didn't ask why all of a sudden she had turned into "just Hermione," and, surprisingly enough, the twins chose to ignore the sudden change as well. They were too excited to show off their inventions.  
  
"Can we please get back to what we came up here to do?" George asked rather impatiently.  
  
"Oh! Yeah, sorry." Harry sat up and stared at them as they pulled out what they had obviously prepared as a display tray.  
  
"These are just samples, of course," said Fred as he held the tray closer so that Harry could inspect it. "Just something to give a customers and idea of what they're buying. We're not going to waste any of the actual products on a demonstration."  
  
"What's that?" Harry asked as he pointed to what appeared to be a piece of chocolate wrapped in pink and blue foil.  
  
Fred laughed. "That, my dear boy, is a Gender Jostling Jelly Bean. If a man eats one, he automatically grows long hair and fingernails and no matter what he's wearing, he then wears a frilly pink lace dress. Not too much unlike Ron's old dress robes," he said, grinning at Ron.  
  
Ron wasn't amused. "I got rid of the lace," he said irritably.  
  
George rumpled Ron's hair in a big brother type fashion, despite the fact that Ron now stood at least four inches over the twins. "Ah, he's only kidding ya."  
  
Harry was intrigued by the Gender Jostling Jelly Beans. "That reminds me of the day in third year when we studied Boggarts, and Neville's was Snape in a dress and huge falcon-topped hat."  
  
Ron laughed loudly at the memory. Severus Snape was Ron, Hermione, and Harry's absolute least favorite professor at Hogwarts. He was the potions master, and it seemed as though he were put on Earth to insult Harry Potter and anyone who chose to associate with him. Seeing him in a dress and that hat, despite the fact that it hadn't really been him at all, was still enough to make them both laugh very heartily.  
  
"I'd give anything to see that again!" exclaimed Ron as he held up the display candy. "I wonder how much we would have to pay someone to slip him one of these."  
  
"You wouldn't have to pay anyone to slip it to him. Well, besides us, of course. You're not getting free candy just because you're family, mind you. But anyway," George continued. "All you'd have to do is tell Colin Creevey that his hero Harry Potter wanted him to do it, and he'd risk a year's worth of detention just to impress good ole' Harry."  
  
He was right, of course. Colin Creevey was going to be a fourth year student, and he admired Harry more than any person on the planet. He followed him around, endlessly, trying to get him to pay some attention to him. For the most part, Harry always tried to be cordial, but sometimes Colin and his little brother Dennis, who would be a second year, were just downright annoying.  
  
"You know, Harry, he might be onto something." Ginny had spoken for the first time in a long while. "Colin would do anything if he thought it would make you happy."  
  
Ron had to fight the urge to say that Ginny, too, would do anything to make him happy. When Ginny and Colin had first enrolled at Hogwarts, it seemed as though a Harry Potter fan club was sure to immerge along with them. "Yeah, wouldn't it be something?" Ron's eyes glittered at the mere thought. "Getting Colin to slip Snape one and watching him turn into a woman right as he calls attendance..."  
  
Harry laughed. It would be rather funny. Okay, it would be very funny. That alone would be well-worth all the trouble he was sure Snape was going to cause for him this year. It was definitely a possibility he was going to keep in mind for the coming term.  
  
Fred and George showed them a few more inventions and then declared that they had seen enough for one day. "Can't spoil the surprise of having one popped on you, can we?" Fred asked as he winked at Harry.  
  
Harry just shook his head and rolled his eyes. There was no doubt in his mind that he was not going to escape staying with the Weasleys without being turned into a chicken or having his head inflated like a balloon or something to the effect. He would just have to be extremely cautious and make sure he accepted nothing at all from either of the twins. Or from Ginny, for that matter.  
  
**********************  
  
Later that afternoon, Harry and Ron were in Ron's room looking through the pages of Quidditch Center, the monthly magazine devoted to their favorite sport. All the players in all the pictures were zooming around their goals and concentrating fiercely as the sped in and out of view on their broomsticks.  
  
"Wonder what's going to happen with the house team this year," Ron pondered as he read an article on the team that had taken last year's World Quidditch Cup title- Ireland.  
  
"What do you mean?" Harry, too, was reading the article.  
  
"Well, you know. Wood's gone now. And Angelina, too. Who's going to be captain? And they'll need a keeper and another chaser."  
  
Harry hadn't even though of any of that. Sure, it had dawned on him the year before that they were now missing a captain and a keeper, but no Quidditch had even been played last year due to the Triwizard Tournament of Champions. And he hadn't even thought about Angelina graduating. "You know, Ron, I don't know. I reckon Fred or George'll get captain. I don't know what we're going to do about taking Wood and Angelina's places, though."  
  
Ron looked up and then said, "You think maybe I've got a shot?"  
  
Harry was surprised. He knew that Ron loved to watch Quidditch, but he'd never really talked about wanting to play it before. "Sure, I guess. What did you want to play?"  
  
"Well, whenever I scrimmage around with Fred and George I always play keeper. They said I was getting pretty good, actually." He sounded as though he didn't want to come off as too sure of himself. "I guess I'll talk to them about it. If one of them gets captain, you know?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Worth a shot anyway."  
  
They turned the page in the magazine and both gasped. Right there, in front of their very own eyes, was Viktor Krum, seeker for the Bulgarian Quidditch national team, with his arm around Hermione Granger's waist. They were both smiling broadly; Hermione seemed to be showing her newly shrunk teeth off on purpose.  
  
Viktor and Hermione had met the previous year at Hogwarts when Viktor had come to compete in the Triwizard Tournament. He was a few years older than them, having just graduated from his own school, but he still seemed to be extremely smitten with Hermione. He had even asked her to visit him over the summer, which is what had caused Ron's uproar before.  
  
But the Hermione in the picture wasn't the same Hermione that Harry and Ron knew. No, this Hermione was different. Her wild, bushy brown hair was now very straight and combed down to where it fell well below her shoulders, and she was dressed differently. Instead of the usual t-shirt and jeans she wore when not in her Hogwarts robes, Hermione was now dressed in a tight red tank top and a knee length denim skirt with a slit halfway up the front. Her face, too, looked different. She was wearing what appeared to be- yes, it was- make-up. Never before had Hermione ever looked anywhere close to this. Well, unless the Yule Ball from the previous year was counted; she had attended that, too, with Viktor.  
  
Ron and Harry sat staring at the photo speechless for a long moment with their mouths open, and then finally they looked up at each other.  
  
"It can't be..." Ron bent down to examine the photo. "They've made a mistake and printed her name over the picture of some other girl." He read the caption aloud. "Worldwide Quidditch sensation, Viktor Krum of Bulgaria, and what is assumed to be his new girlfriend, Hermione Granger of Britain, smile as they are caught in a local park. Krum has recently signed a seven year contract with the Bulgarian national team to play seeker for a reported fifty thousand galleons a match."  
  
He nearly choked on his own words.  
  
"Fifty thousand galleons a match?!" He looked at Harry with huge eyes. "Holy..." His voice trailed off as he stared down at the photo one more time. It was, in fact, Hermione, and she definitely looked quite at ease being in the arms of what was now a very rich Bulgarian Quidditch player.  
  
Harry was too shocked for words. He just stared down at the magazine, his mouth still open.  
  
Suddenly, Ron's face turned bright red with anger. "So, that's why she's avoiding us! Trying to cozy up to old Krum! Now, that he's getting more money playing one match than my whole family gets in twenty years!" He threw the magazine across the room and glared at it. "She's a real hypocrite, that one is! Going on and on last year about how those girls only liked Krum because he was famous. Getting onto us about going after girls who were nothing but pretty! And now look what she's gone and done! Went and got her a nice little rich boyfriend who isn't even handsome! I look better than that old git does!" Ron was absolutely fuming with anger.  
  
"Ron, calm down." Harry got to his feet and went to retrieve the magazine that Ron had hurled clear across the room. "We don't even know that Viktor Krum is Hermione's... well, boyfriend." It just seemed odd to be using Hermione in the same sentence as the word boyfriend.  
  
"Oh, we don't, eh?" Ron threw a pointer finger down at the picture. "They look pretty close to me!" Harry looked down and saw that now Krum was twirling a piece of Hermione's now incredibly straight hair through his fingers.  
  
Shutting the magazine altogether, Harry just sat down on the bed and thought for a moment. "Ron, I think Hermione would tell us if she and Krum were... well, you know, going out."  
  
"Oh, would she?" Ron narrowed his eyes angrily at the now closed magazine. "She looked pretty different enough on the outside! Maybe she's changed on the inside, too!" Ron couldn't keep himself from letting his voice rise with each sentence. "Maybe she's decided she doesn't need us anymore. That's why she's not coming to visit, and that's why she didn't bother to tell us that she and that dungball had gone and made it official! Why would she need us anyway? She's got a world-famous, extremely rich boyfriend to look after her now!" Ron spewed the word boyfriend in the same fashion that Uncle Vernon spewed Harry's name whenever he spoke of him.  
  
Harry hated to admit it, but Ron might actually have been right. Of course, Ron was being rather over-dramatic about the whole thing. Yes, it was rather odd to imagine Hermione having a boyfriend, but Ron just seemed downright furious about the notion. "Ron, I think we should just write to Hermione and ask her."  
  
Ron looked at him as though he were crazy. "What?! And have her think that we actually care whether or not she's hooking up with some Bulgarian vulture? I don't think so!" Ron crossed his arms over his chest and stayed silent for a moment. "Because I don't know about you, Harry, but I don't care! Whatever she does, that's her business. She obviously doesn't want us to be a part of her business anymore!"  
  
At that moment, Ginny poked her head into the room. "What in blazes name is all the hollering in here about?" she asked with a bewildered look on her face.  
  
Harry silently flipped to the page with Hermione and Krum and handed it to Ginny. At first Ginny seemed to be viewing it as any normal picture, but then she caught on. "HERMIONE?!" She looked up shocked at her brother and Harry.  
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah. Different from when we saw her last, eh?"  
  
Ginny nodded rapidly. "Yeah, but for the definite better! And... oh, wow!!" she said to the picture. "Went and got her a pro-Quidditch player for real!"  
  
Ron looked up at his sister as though he were trying to debate what type of death she should suffer. He was silent for a long moment as he just looked at her. And then without warning, he shouted at her in a voice Harry didn't know Ron was capable of. "GET OUT OF MY BLOODY ROOM, YOU STUPID BRAT!!!!"  
  
Harry looked away and let out a low whistle. Things were about to get ugly.  
  
Ginny just stared at him for a second before she started using language that Harry had never in a million years ever expected to hear from sweet, innocent, little Ginny Weasley. The scene was complete with Ron bellowing back at her with words just as foul, and finally Ginny threw in a couple of hand gestures and stalked out of Ron's bedroom. Ron looked as though he were about to go after her and beat her into a bloody pulp, but he didn't. He just glared after her.  
  
"That idiot doesn't know what she's talking about," he said in what was by far the quietest voice he had used in the last several minutes.  
  
Harry was completely shocked. "Just think if your Mum had walked in in the middle of all that..."  
  
Ron just shook his head, obviously not too worried about his mother. "Ginny's just so stupid these days!"  
  
"What's with her, anyway?" Harry had been meaning to ask if he was the only one noticing the changes in her.  
  
Ron shrugged his shoulders as he ducked his head. "I don't know. Maybe Hermione found a personality changing spell in the fifth year book and brewed one up for Ginny and herself."  
  
Harry laughed, but if he hadn't known that Ron was joking, he would have thought that the spell was the only possible answer. He didn't see how it was possible for two girls to change so much in what was barely over a month.  
  
"Well, look at it this way, Ron. Hermione can't have changed too much, can she? That letter sounded exactly like the same Hermione we left back in June."  
  
Ron nodded. Harry was right. If Hermione had completely changed, she wouldn't be reading ahead or telling them to be careful and stay out of trouble. "I guess." He stood up and headed for the door, obviously done with the topic. "Let's go see if Mum's got dinner, yet."  
  
  
  
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PLEASE REPLY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 


	3. SURPRISE!

A/N: THANKS to all the reviewers! I picked up a lot more!!!! Hope you guys like this!!!!  
  
***********************  
  
The next morning Harry woke up feeling absolutely wonderful. He couldn't even describe how great if felt to wake up and be in the Weasley house instead of his aunt and uncle's house on Privet Drive. It was as though he were finally home. He grabbed his glasses from the table that sat between his and Ron's beds and glanced over to where Ron was sleeping. His watch told him that it was nearly 10:00. He was rather surprised that Mrs. Weasley had allowed them to sleep in so late, but he was grateful. For some reason, he had been absolutely worn out the night before, and crawling into the warm guest bed in Ron's room had seemed like heaven.  
  
"Ron, wake up," he said, trying not to be too awfully loud. But then again, he knew how hard Ron was to awaken. So, when he didn't move, Harry tried again a little louder. "Ron! Wake up."  
  
Ron rolled over and groaned. Opening one eye, he stared at Harry. Then suddenly, he sat right up. "Harry! I forgot that you were here! What time is it?"  
  
"Nearly ten. Wonder why your mum didn't come up and wake us?" Harry stretched and put his feet on the cold floor.  
  
Ron shrugged as he pulled himself into a sitting position. "Who knows? Who cares? Better to sleep in than to have her in here bellowing that I'm a lazy bum sleeping the summer away."  
  
Harry laughed. "Come on. Let's go get breakfast." Just as he stood up, Ron hit himself in the head.  
  
"Happy birthday, Harry! I nearly forgot what day it was!" He smiled at Harry as he, too, pulled himself out of bed and shivered as the cool air hit him.  
  
Ron was right; it was his birthday. Harry laughed. "I really did forget!" Harry was fifteen that day. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Anyway, let's go get breakfast for real. I'm starving!"  
  
So, both boys pulled on some clothes and hurried downstairs without even bothering to brush their hair. The first floor of the Weasley house was rather quiet. No one seemed to be in the kitchen or in the sitting room, either.  
  
"I wonder where everyone is," he said to Ron as they neared the kitchen door.  
  
Ron shrugged. "I dunno. Mum's probably shopping, and Dad's at work. I don't know where Fred, George, and Ginny are, though."  
  
They got to the kitchen door and pulled it open.  
  
"SURPRISE!"  
  
Around the kitchen stood Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Fred, George, and Ginny. On the kitchen table was a fabulous birthday cake that Mrs. Weasley, herself, had baked early that morning before they had awaken. An assortment of breakfast foods such as sausage, bacon, a plate of scrambled eggs, and lots of fruit were on the counter. And sitting on the table beside the cake was a small pile of presents.  
  
Harry was absolutely shocked. Never before had he ever had a real birthday party. The closest the Dursley's had ever come to throwing him one was a dinner party for Uncle Vernon's business associates which Harry wasn't allowed to even attend. He was thrilled at the surprise!  
  
"Wow! Thanks!" He smiled at them all, and then turned to Ron who looked just as shocked as he did. "Didn't you know about it, Ron?"  
  
Ron shook his head. "Nope." He looked up at his mother. "Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
She rolled her eyes as she hurried over to hug Harry. "Because, Ron, you have a habit of not keeping secrets too well. We wanted it to be a surprise."  
  
Ron, at first, appeared to be a bit insulted by his mother, but then he just shrugged his shoulders. "Open your presents, Harry!"  
  
Mrs. Weasley held up a finger to stop him. "Wait. There's one more surprise as well."  
  
Harry looked around wondering what it could be.  
  
"Go into the sitting room." Mrs. Weasley held the door open for Harry and Ron to get into the sitting room where a fire was blazing in the fireplace. Neither of them thought anything of it, despite the fact that it was July. But suddenly a loud popping sound could be heard from that direction.  
  
They both turned to look as someone appeared in the fire.  
  
"Hermione!" It was Ron who was the first to say her name as she stepped out of the fireplace and dusted herself off quickly. She was the same Hermione they had seen in the picture in Quidditch Center. She was now dressed in a pair of dark blue capri pants with a lighter colored tank top, and her bushy brown hair was still extremely straight, though pulled halfway back and secured with a tiny clip. She was even wearing make-up just as she had been in the picture, and her skin was a nice tanned color.  
  
She smiled at them both. "Surprise!"  
  
"Hermione, I thought you weren't..." Harry was cut off as she walked up to him and gave him a tight hug.  
  
"Happy birthday, Harry!"  
  
"Thanks, but I thought you had to go to Ireland." Harry looked at her, puzzled.  
  
She turned to Ron and met him with the same type of tight hug. Harry saw Ron's face turn a little pinker than normal as she wrapped her arms around him. He even looked a tad disappointed as she let go of him and turned back to Harry. "No, that was just to fool you guys into thinking I wasn't coming to stay. Mum and Dad are really going to Ireland, but they told me that I could come stay here if I wanted to instead, and, of course, I said yes. I wanted it to be a surprise, so I wrote and told you I wasn't coming." She looked at them and rolled her eyes, still smiling. "Of course, I'm not going to miss your birthday, Harry, and there was no way I was going to miss the trip to the coast next weekend."  
  
"You're staying that long?" Ron asked.  
  
Hermione nodded. "I'm staying until term starts, actually. My parents won't be back to Britain until September tenth, so your mum and dad said I could stay here and that they would see me off to school safely."  
  
Ron was staring at Hermione as though he wasn't sure what to say next. Finally, he said, "Why do you look so different?"  
  
Hermione raised a hand to her long brown hair. "Oh! Well, I got my hair straightened right before I left for Bulgaria at a Muggle salon. Do you like it?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "It's alright, I guess," he answered nonchalantly. "What about your clothes?"  
  
She glanced down and then back up at Ron. "What about them?"  
  
"You don't normally dress like that."  
  
"Oh. Well, Mum said that since my grades had improved so much in my fourth year that she would take me on a shopping spree at the start of holiday. I got a ton of new stuff."  
  
Ron looked at her as though she were crazy. "Your grades improved from what, Hermione? Perfect to beyond humanly possible?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "No, Ron. I made a B in potions third year. I worked extra hard last year to bring it back up to an A."  
  
Ron glanced at Harry and shook his head while rolling his eyes slightly. He had barely made a D in potions, but he was sure that Harry, too, had just barely scraped by in that class. "Well, I'm sure it was a horror to see that B on your report," he said bitterly. "Probably ruined your whole summer holiday last year, eh?"  
  
Hermione chose to ignore Ron and turned her attention back to Harry who was still shocked that she had shown up. "Your present from me is already in the kitchen, Harry. I had all my things sent ahead."  
  
At that moment, Mrs. Weasley stuck her head back into the sitting room. "Oh, hello, Hermione!" Hermione smiled her reply. "If you kids want breakfast anytime soon, you better get back in here." She shut the door as she disappeared back into the kitchen.  
  
"Shall we?" Hermione led the way into the kitchen followed by Harry and then Ron. Ron looked at Harry's disheveled hair, and suddenly remembering that neither of them had even glanced in a mirror earlier, licked his fingers and tried desperately to smooth his hair down a bit as they followed Hermione back into the kitchen, where she was being greeted by the rest of the Weasleys.  
  
"Can Harry open his presents, Mum?" Ron asked as they sat back down at the table.  
  
She shook her head. "Breakfast first and then cake and presents."  
  
Ron and Harry, along with the rest of the Weasley's piled their plates full of all the breakfast foods set out. Hermione, however, reached only for the fruit and the bread.  
  
"Don't you want some sausage, Hermione?" asked Mrs. Weasley warmly.  
  
Hermione shook her head politely. "Oh, no, ma'am. I've given up meat."  
  
Ron and Harry exchanged looks and then turned back to Hermione who continued. "I decided that if I can save just one animal by giving up meat then it will be worth it."  
  
Ron snorted. "Started a new organization yet, Hermione? Gotten tired of spew, have you?" He was referring to the organization that Hermione had started last year in an attempt to free all house-elves.  
  
Fred and George both burst into laughter, but Hermione ignored them. Narrowing her eyes at Ron, she answered him. "It's not spew, Ron, and you know that perfectly well. It's S.P.E.W. And no, I haven't gotten tired of it; I fully intend on starting to rally again as soon as we return to school. In answer to your other question, no, I haven't started a new organization. I don't intend to, either. My giving up meat is a personal choice I made for myself."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes and whispered to Harry. "I bet she's just on a diet to look pretty for Mr. Viky boy."  
  
Hermione, obviously hearing him, glared at him. "I am not on a diet, thank you," she said shortly.  
  
Mrs. Weasley stepped in to stop the brewing argument that was sure to begin at any moment. "Ron, leave Hermione alone and eat your breakfast." She smiled at Hermione. "I think it's wonderful you've given up meat, dear. I'd do it myself if I had the willpower, but I just don't."  
  
They finished breakfast without any further discussion of Hermione's new vegetarianism. Breakfast was quite uneventful, in fact. Surprisingly enough, Fred and George didn't pull any of their new tricks at the table. Ginny and Ron didn't speak to each other at all, both obviously still mad about the argument they had had the night before. And Harry and Hermione spent most of breakfast trying to explain to Mr. Weasley the difference between a VHS cassette and a DVD.  
  
When they were finally finished, Mrs. Weasley cleared the table of the dishes with a wave of her wand and turned to Harry. "Alright, Harry dear. You may open your gifts now."  
  
There were seven presents all together, and Harry didn't know which one to open first. Obviously knowing what Harry was thinking, Mrs. Weasley reached for one and handed it to him. "Here. This one is from Arthur and me."  
  
Harry smiled at her as he took the present and pulled the wrapping off of it. Inside the box was a new sweater that Mrs. Weasley had knitted. She traditionally sent Harry a sweater each Christmas, but he was a bit surprised to find she had made him one in the middle of summer.  
  
"It's supposed to get chilly quite early this year," she told him as she beamed down at him.  
  
Harry nodded and smiled. "Thanks very much."  
  
"Open this one next," Fred pushed a small box across the table at Harry. "It's from George and me."  
  
Harry was almost scared to open the box, so he did so in a very careful manner.  
  
George laughed. "We promise nothing's going to explode."  
  
Harry opened the box the rest of the way and found what looked like a small coupon. It said, "Good for one box of Gender Jostling Jelly Beans to be used exclusively on Professor Severus Snape, potions Master." Harry couldn't hide the grin that covered his lips.  
  
"What is it, dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley straining to see.  
  
Fred jumped in to answer. "Oh, it's just an IOU saying we'll do his laundry sometime at school."  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley both eyed them suspiciously but decided to let it pass, as Hermione handed Harry a rather small box wrapped in gold foil. "Here, Harry. I picked this up for you while I was in Bulgaria."  
  
Ron glowered at the mention of Bulgaria but didn't say anything. He watched as Harry opened the present and pulled out a glass display case. Inside of the case, a little stand held a golden snitch- the tiny ball that had to be caught for a Quidditch match to be won.  
  
"Wow, Hermione!" Harry looked up at her with wide eyes. "Where did you get this?"  
  
Ron strained to see what was so special about it, as did Fred, George, and Ginny. Harry handed it to Ron, and Ron let out a huge gasp.  
  
"It's autographed by Mikel Graft!" Ron said, barely able to speak. Fred and George, too, let out huge gasps. Mikel Graft was the Chudley Cannons' seeker. The Chudley Cannons were Ron and Harry's favorite Quidditch team.  
  
"I got it from a Quidditch memorabilia shop I was browsing in while Viktor was at practice." She paused. "It's from the World Cup seven years ago, so I know it's a bit old, but I thought you still might like it. I wish I could have gotten a newer one."  
  
Ron nearly dropped the glass case he was holding when she said that, so it was a good thing both Fred and George dived to inspect it before he could drop it. Fred got hold of it first and held it close to his eye.  
  
"Hermione, are you mad?!" Fred passed it to George. "Seven years ago was when the Cannons won the World Cup!"  
  
Hermione still didn't seem to see what was so special about the snitch in the case. She had simply bought it because the wizard working the shop had told her that Graft was seeker for the Cannons, and she had heard Ron and Harry talk about them incessantly for awhile now. "Do you like it, Harry?" she asked, afraid he didn't because he hadn't spoken since he had first opened it.  
  
Harry was still in shock. He nodded his head quickly. "It's really great, Hermione. Thanks!"  
  
She smiled at him. "Good. I'm glad you're not too upset it's a few years old."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes as he reached once again for the snitch which had now passed through both Ginny and Mr. Weasley's hands. "I can't believe it..." he muttered.  
  
Ginny slid a present across the table. "It's not much, but I haven't got a lot of money saved up," she explained.  
  
Harry took the box and pulled the paper off of it. Inside was what appeared to be a CD case. It had a picture of the Weird Sisters on it; they were a widely popular musical group in the wizarding community which Harry had gotten to hear the previous year when they had played the Yule Ball. "Wow, thanks, Ginny," he smiled at her, and she blushed a red that was just a shade darker than her hair.  
  
"I know you haven't got a WWN hookup, so I figured you'd get a listen of the Weird Sisters this way. Dad got a man in Muggle relations to transmit it onto the Muggle music device." Growing up in a full-wizarding house, the Weasley children had never used anything like a CD player.  
  
"Ooh," Hermione reached for a better look. "I want to have a listen, Harry." Hermione, like Harry, had grown up in a Muggle household. Both of her parents were Muggles, so she was the first witch in her family.  
  
"Ron?" Mrs. Weasley waved a hand in front of her youngest son's face. When he finally looked up from the case he was still holding in his hand, she said, "Don't you have a gift for Harry?"  
  
"Oh! Yeah..." Ron's face dropped slightly as he finally sat the snitch down and reached for a perfectly square box. He frowned a little as he handed it to Harry. "It's nothing compared to Hermione's..."  
  
Harry just shook his head as he opened the gift. Inside was a box with the words "Baisley's Broomstick Booster." Harry had never heard of it before, so he turned to Ron for an explanation.  
  
"Well, it's new, see?" Ron looked down. "I figured you might be able to use it because it's supposed to make any broomstick, even the Firebolt, go twice as fast." He wasn't speaking very loudly, and it was quite obvious to Harry that Ron thought his present paled in comparison to Hermione's.  
  
"It's great, Ron! Thanks!" He opened the box and saw that it was filled with a silvery sort of powder. "Twice as fast you say? That's wicked! Thanks!"  
  
Ron smiled a bit, obviously cheered by Harry's enthusiasm. "You're welcome."  
  
There were still two gifts in the middle of the table. Harry reached for them and noticed that one was from Hagrid, the groundskeeper at Hogwarts and also the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, and the other was from Sirius Black, Harry's godfather. Harry opened the one from Hagrid first. It was, as it always was, a box full of his favorite sweets. Ron, obviously interested in that particular gift, smiled at Harry innocently as he slid the box closer to himself and started rummaging through it, picking out what he wanted. A note attached to the gift read:  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
Sorry I haven't had a chance to write, but Madame Maxime and I are off doing special business for the Ministry. We're both doing well, and I hope that you lot are doing great, too. I should be back in plenty of time for the start of next term, so I suppose I'll see you then. Once again, sorry 'bout the lack of communication- been a bit distracted here. Anyway, Happy Birthday and have a great holiday.  
  
Hagrid  
  
Harry handed the note to Hermione who was obviously interested in what Hagrid had to write, and then he reached for the last gift in the pile. It was rather heavy, and Harry knew before opening it that it was a book. He had received enough books as gifts from Hermione to know exactly how they felt wrapped in a box. When he opened the box, he found that he was right. A large book of spells rested amidst the tissue, and a note sat on top. Harry opened it and read:  
  
Dear Harry,  
  
I'm sorry that I can't be there, but as you know things aren't very safe for any of us these days, least of all me. You're probably wondering why I sent you a book of spells as your birthday gift, aren't you? Well, this book isn't a normal book of spells. It contains spells which many of the most advanced wizards and witches haven't ever succeeded in mastering- therefore, Hermione should get a load of use out of it as well. You'll find the most useful spells in chapter fourteen. There's one in particular I feel you absolutely must learn to perform- you'll know which one it is.  
  
Wishing you a happy birthday,  
  
Sirius  
  
Hermione immediately reached for the book and opened it. "I wonder which spell he's talking about," she said as she hurriedly flipped to chapter fourteen.  
  
Mr. Weasley stood up. "Why don't we leave that to later, eh? Have some cake."  
  
Mrs. Weasley nodded as she cut them all a slice of cake. "Close the book, dear. It's not polite to read at the table," she said quietly to Hermione who reluctantly shut the book and reached for her slice of cake.  
  
************************************  
  
Later that day, Harry found himself outside in a Wizard's Chess match- him and Ron against Fred and George. He and Ron were beating the twins horribly. Ginny sat in a chair beside the table watching, and Hermione was holed up in Ginny's room with her nose buried deep in the new spell book Sirius had sent.  
  
Just as one of the twins' knights got his head cut off, Ron spoke up out of nowhere. "How did she do it?"  
  
Four sets of eyes stared at him, wondering who she was and what she managed to do.  
  
"Hermione," he finished, without having to be asked. "That snitch must have cost a bloody fortune! How'd she ever manage it?"  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes and took that opportunity to speak to Ron for the first time since the night before. "Really, Ron. Have you forgotten that her boyfriend makes fifty thousand galleons a match? I think it's quite obvious how she managed it."  
  
Ron glared at his little sister and then turned angrily to Harry. "She's right, you know? Viktor Krum bought that gift." He sneered matter-of- factly. "I think you should return it."  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, Hermione's got money on her own. Her parents are both dentists, remember?"  
  
All four Weasley children stared at him blankly, so Harry gave further explanation. "Dentists make a lot of money. If you have one as a parent, you're pretty rich. If you've got two for parents, you're very rich."  
  
Ron glowered. "I still bet she sweet talked Krum into buying it," he muttered under his breath.  
  
At that very moment, Hermione came running from the house at full speed. "I found it!" she exclaimed as she pushed the chess board aside and laid the new book of spells out on the table; curses could be heard coming from the discarded chess pieces as they flew all across the lawn. "Look right here. Chapter fourteen, just like he said."  
  
Harry looked down to where Hermione was pointing. The book was open to a page where a spell simply titled "Wandless" was listed.  
  
"It tells you how to summon your natural powers and the power of your wand even when you're not in physical possession of it," Hermione explained when she saw his puzzled expression. "In case you ever find yourself in a situation where your wand is powerless or you don't have it on your or something."  
  
Harry immediately knew why Sirius had sent him the book, but he didn't want to say anything in front of Fred, George, and Ginny. Although he considered them to be good friends, they didn't know everything about his life like Ron and Hermione did. The thing he was thinking of now, though, was something Ron and Hermione hadn't even been told; he made a mental note to tell them as soon as he found himself alone with the two of them. His wand held a feather from the same Phoenix that Lord Voldemort's wand did. Voldemort was the Dark Lord who had killed Harry's parents years ago; he had recently come back into power, but at their last meeting, Harry had found that when his wand met its brother, Voldemort's wand, neither worked at all. Rather they connected in a strange sort of way. Harry had yet to reveal all the details of his last encounter with Voldemort to Ron and Hermione. It was still quite painful to recall.  
  
"Wicked!" exclaimed George as he leaned in closer to examine the spell. "This could definitely come in handy."  
  
Hermione snapped the book shut and frowned at George. "I don't think we should all be learning these spells, George. Sirius sent them for Harry's use, not ours."  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, he wouldn't care. He'd want us all to be prepared in case something like that happened. And anyway, he said he knew that you, Hermione, would find great use of this book."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that's all she needs- another fifteen pound book to bury her nose in."  
  
Hermione, quite agitated, looked at Ron squarely. "You know, it's rather rude to talk about people in the third person when they're standing right beside you."  
  
Ron looked back at her just as squarely. "Excuse me, Miss Granger. I forgot that you were the newly appointed manners mistress," he said sarcastically. With that, he got up and stormed away into the house.  
  
Hermione watched him go and then sat down in his chair. "What's up with him?"  
  
Harry shrugged. It was quite the normality for Ron and Hermione to bicker nonstop, so he didn't see why Ron had gotten annoyed so quickly. "I dunno."  
  
"I know what's up with him," Ginny said, rather matter-of-factly. "Hormones."  
  
Fred and George both started to laugh, and Harry felt himself getting embarrassed for Ron. He wanted to stop Ginny before she continued, but it didn't work.  
  
Hermione looked at Ginny, shocked, and said, "What're you talking about- hormones?"  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes and pushed a strand of her red hair away from her face. "Oh, isn't it obvious? Ron's been in a frenzy ever since he saw that stupid article that said that you and Viktor Krum had made it official!"  
  
Hermione still stared at Ginny in a way that said she didn't follow.  
  
Ginny continued to rave on. "And haven't you noticed that he's put on a ton of after-shave today? Holy shit! You can smell him a mile away, and he hasn't even started shaving yet." She said all of this as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.  
  
"And?" Hermione was obviously still not getting the picture.  
  
"Hermione, Ron likes you!" Ginny spat it out and sighed heavily when she finished, leaning back in her chair as though she were tired from performing a great task.  
  
Fred and George really started to roll with laughter as their sister completed her theory. Fred even gave her a thumbs-up and a wink, as though to say, "Good job!" Harry wished desperately that Ginny hadn't just said that. Ron would be absolutely horrified!  
  
Hermione just stared at Ginny. She didn't speak for a long moment, and then she finally said, "Ginny, are you mad? I would be the last person on this planet that Ron Weasley would ever fancy. I can assure you of that." Harry was thankful that Hermione hadn't gone all schoolgirl giggly like most girls would have when told that a boy liked them.  
  
Ginny laughed, though. "Are you serious? You're really that blind?" She rolled her eyes and looked at Harry. "She should have seen him last night when he saw the magazine, shouldn't she have, Harry?"  
  
Harry, hating to be put on the spot, shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't really notice."  
  
Ginny immediately turned her attention back to Hermione, shrugging Harry's response off with a simple, "He's lying," and continued. "Hermione, I am dead serious. Ron nearly went mental when he read that you were Krum's girlfriend! He cursed me out using some words I'd never even heard before!"  
  
"I happen to think she's right," George said, grinning. "Ron did appear to be a bit jealous of ole' Krum. That's for sure."  
  
Fred nodded. "And he does smell pretty awful today, doesn't he? I didn't even know we had that much cologne in the entire house! He's never worn it before..."  
  
Hermione just shook her head and rolled her eyes. "You're mad. All of you. You think that Ron likes me? Please!"  
  
Harry decided to excuse himself then; he wasn't going to be able to take any more humiliation for Ron. "I think I'm going to head upstairs for a bit," he said as he turned and made his way toward the house.  
  
"Harry, wait!" Hermione grabbed the book and took off after him, ignoring Ginny's "You're blind!"  
  
When she had caught up to him and they were near the door, Hermione laughed nervously. "Can you believe that lot? I think they've all gone nutters."  
  
Harry shrugged as they walked through the door and up the stairs to Ron's room. Hermione followed him in, and they found Ron sitting on his bed looking, for the millionth time, at the golden snitch in its display case. He looked up when they came in.  
  
"Come to teach me more manners, have you?" Ron glared at Hermione who did her job of returning the look.  
  
"No, as a matter of fact, I came up here because I need to talk to you two." She sat down beside Ron on his bed and Harry sat across from them on the one he was using. "I found something out while I was with Viktor that I think you might be interested in."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "I'm not interested in anything that nit's got to say."  
  
Hermione ignored him and continued. "I wandered around the city quite a bit while I was there since Viktor spent so much time at practice. And I heard things," she paused as though she were unsure of how to explain them. "I heard things about You Know Who that I don't think I was meant to hear."  
  
Harry's eyes met Hermione's then. "What kind of things?"  
  
She looked down, suddenly appearing as though she wasn't sure she should tell them at all. "Well, I was in a wand shop browsing, and I heard the shopkeeper tell one of his friends that You Know Who supporters were gaining such strength that they were soon going to be able to take back over. He was obviously a You Know Who supporter because he said something else that I'm not sure I should repeat. I mean, I don't even know if it's true." She looked up at Harry. "It's about you."  
  
"What about me?" Harry wasn't surprised that he was the topic of conversation, but he wanted to know what was being said.  
  
"Well, he said something like, 'When we get that Potter boy we're going to use him to restore power to our side. The Lord doesn't want him dead anymore.' I really don't know what it means," added Hermione quickly.  
  
Harry was puzzled. "Of course, he wants me dead! That's all he's wanted for fifteen years now!"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yeah, that's what I thought, too. But it was so strange. He said that your death wouldn't do anything to empower their side." She frowned before she continued. "He said that with you being dead all of your powers would be useless, and he said that they needed your powers to help them..."  
  
Harry sat looking at Hermione, unsure of what to say. Finally, he decided that he had to tell them. "I have something to tell you that you might find a bit odd," he said uncertainly.  
  
Ron and Hermione both stared back at him waiting anxiously for the piece of information he was about to reveal.  
  
"Well, a couple of things actually..."  
  
"Get on with it, Harry," said Ron impatiently.  
  
Harry nodded. "Well, do you remember our first night at Hogwarts? Remember how it seemed to take the Sorting Cap longer to sort me than to sort anyone else?"  
  
They nodded, vaguely remembering.  
  
"I never told you this, but the hat wanted to put me in Slytherin..."  
  
Ron's mouth fell open. "You're not serious! Why would it do that?!"  
  
Harry shrugged. "It said I would do well in Slytherin, and that Slytherin would help me on my way."  
  
Slytherin was the house out of which more bad wizards and witches immerged than any of the other three houses at Hogwarts put together.  
  
"Anyway," Harry continued, "I begged it mentally not to put me in Slytherin, so it finally put me in Gryffindor. But then I found out some other things as well."  
  
"Like what?" Hermione was looking at him anxiously.  
  
Harry glanced down and then back up at his two best friends. "Well, my wand..."  
  
Hermione and Ron looked at him questioningly. "Yeah," Ron said with a blank look, "we know you have a wand...."  
  
Harry wasn't sure what their reactions would be, but he figured that just coming out with it was the easiest way to go about it. "My wand holds a feather from the same Phoenix that Voldermort's does."  
  
Hermione gasped and raised a hand to cover her now gaping mouth. Ron just stared at Harry as though he couldn't remember how to speak.  
  
"So, that's why Sirius sent you the book..." muttered Hermione, her hand sliding from her mouth as she spoke.  
  
Ron turned his attention away from Harry and to her Hermione who was sitting to his left. "What does that have to do with the book?" He knew he was in for a long explanation because Hermione never explained anything in a quaint manner, but at the moment, he just wanted to know what was so important.  
  
Hermione shook her head disapprovingly at Ron. "Ron, do you pay attention at all in school?" she asked in the same fashion as a teacher might.  
  
Ron nodded. "Yeah. At Quidditch matches and at meals." He seemed quite pleased with himself and shot Harry a smile which Harry weakly returned.  
  
Hermione sighed loudly. "When a wand meets its brother, it's powerless to do any sort of harm. Harry and You Know Who's wands are brothers- they cancel each other out. Harry would need his natural powers if he were faced with You Know Who again. That's why Sirius sent the book."  
  
Ron was surprised that she had managed to explain something in under twenty minutes, but he didn't say so. He was too intrigued by what she had just said to be snide. "So, how did you get away before, Harry? You know... back in June." Ron glanced down, not wanting to meet Harry's eye as he asked the question. The three of them had never really discussed what happened.  
  
Harry was quiet for a moment, and then he answered. "Well, it was weird actually. The wands connected."  
  
Hermione nodded, obviously knowing that connecting was the natural thing for a wand and its brother to do. "Yes, and I bet you saw the last curses cast from one of your wands, didn't you?"  
  
Ron just gaped at Hermione. "Where do you get all this? I don't remember anything at all having to do with wands finding their matches and connecting."  
  
Hermione just shook her head once again in a disapproving manner. "I read, Ron." Then she added snidely, "You should try it sometime."  
  
Ron made a face at Hermione and turned his attention back to Harry. "Well, did your curses come out of the wands when they connected?"  
  
"Voldemort's did." Harry suddenly became very quiet. "I saw that last of the murders he'd committed..."  
  
"Cedric?" Ron asked, not noticing that Harry was being way too quiet.  
  
Hermione, on the other hand, realized at once why Harry had stopped, and she glared at Ron and poked him rather hardly.  
  
"Yeah," said Harry. "I saw Cedric." He was silent for a long moment. "Then I saw my parents..."  
  
Ron understood immediately. Looking up at Harry, he quietly said, "I'm sorry."  
  
Harry looked away, willing himself not to get too upset by the memory. He had tried hard not to think of it over the summer, but it was all coming back to him in a hurry. Absolutely refusing to even tear up, he shrugged. "It's okay. My dad told me to run as quick as I could back to the portkey when the wands' connection was broken, and that's how I got away." Biting his lower lip, he held back the tears which were stinging the ends of his eyes. "I reckon that's the only time I'll ever get to talk to them," he finished quietly.  
  
Hermione and Ron sat not speaking for what seemed like ages. Ron was hoping desperately that Hermione would speak first and break the deadly silence, and he was quite relieved when she did. In a voice full of concern, she spoke softly. "Harry, I'm glad you told us. You do know you can tell us anything, right?"  
  
Harry nodded without looking in their direction. He wasn't going to cry in front of them. He just wasn't. Getting to his feet, he headed toward the door. "I'm going for a walk," he said simply as he walked out of the room.  
  
Ron and Hermione watched him leave but didn't get up to follow him. Instead, they sat in silence for awhile until finally Ron spoke. "I feel awful now."  
  
Hermione leaned back against the wall and twirled a strand of her hair through her fingers as she looked off distantly. "He'll be okay."  
  
Ron looked back at her. "I wonder why he never told us about the Slytherin thing."  
  
"Well, would you want to broadcast it if the Sorting Cap had wanted to place you in Slytherin?" she asked, meeting his eye.  
  
"Good point." Ron scooted himself back a bit and crossed his legs under him. Placing his chin in his hands, he leaned down to rest his elbows against his knees. "So, what do we do now?"  
  
Hermione stopped twisting her hair and started playing with her fingernails instead. "I guess we don't mention it again until he's ready to talk about it."  
  
Ron shrugged his shoulders lazily. "Yeah, I guess."  
  
****************************  
  
The next morning, Harry awoke to the sound of Mrs. Weasley screaming loudly from a room below.  
  
"How many times do I have to tell you that you are NOT to have these pricing lists?! This is simply disgraceful!!" Her voice was shrill and quite obviously being directed at Fred and George who shared the bedroom under Ron's.  
  
Ron, too, awoke as his mother started screaming that she couldn't believe that after having three highly successful children (Bill, Charlie, and Percy, of course) she was having to put up with two who were wasting seven years of education on what she termed "incredibly stupid rubbish."  
  
Ron groaned as he pulled the pillow over his head in an attempt to block out his mother's shrieking. "All she does is yell!" he declared from under the pillow. "How does she even have any hint of a voice left?"  
  
Harry laughed softly as he reached for his glasses and pulled them on. The room went from a blur to quite clear. "It sounds as though they've opened a howler," he said as he sat up. A howler was the most-dreaded piece of mail a Hogwarts' student could receive from home. It contained the sender's voice magnified a hundred times screaming shrilly.  
  
Ron sat up wide-eyed and stared at Harry. "Don't even say that!" They both remembered all too well the time Ron had received a howler in their second year after he and Harry had crashed a flying car into a tree on the school's grounds.  
  
As the years went on, though, the memory of the crash was actually becoming quite humorous. Smiling, Harry mentioned it. "Why did we have to be so stupid?"  
  
Ron laughed a little and shrugged. "Flying the car seemed the logical thing to do at the time," he pointed out.  
  
They both laughed about it, reminiscing, as they got dressed and ready for breakfast. Mrs. Weasley had finally stopped shouting and had obviously headed back downstairs to the kitchen. Just as they were pulling their shoes, a knock sounded at Ron's door.  
  
"Come in," he called as he tied his shoe.  
  
Hermione stuck her head through the door and then entered, still in her pajamas. She shut the door behind her. "What was all the shouting about?" she asked . "I woke up and heard your mother yelling her head off, and Ginny was nowhere to be found, so I didn't know what was going on."  
  
Ron looked up at her, wishing a bit that she had bothered to get dressed before coming to his room, and shrugged. "I reckon Mum found a copy of the new pricing list Fred and George made for the new school year." Then he added, "Ginny was probably in there helping them."  
  
Hermione looked a bit worried. "Oh yeah. I heard about the Weasley immunity..." she glanced at Harry. "Not too lucky for us, eh? I suppose we'll be the guinea pigs."  
  
Harry smiled at her. He was in a much better mood this morning than he had been the afternoon before. "Just don't take anything from them. That's what I intend on doing."  
  
"And don't take anything from Ginny, either," added Ron. "I think Fred and George have brainwashed her or something. She's acting as their little minion these days."  
  
Hermione nodded as a puzzled look crossed her face. "Yes, so I've noticed. Ginny's changed a bit, hasn't she?"  
  
"A bit?" Ron laughed. "That's the understatement of the year. She's an absolute different person." He didn't comment on how much Hermione had changed because, truthfully, just as Harry had said, she still appeared to be the same person underneath her new appearance.  
  
Hermione's eyes widened, as she suddenly remembered something she had needed to tell them. "Oh! I can't believe I forgot to tell you!" She hit herself in the forehead. "You'll never guess who I saw in Bulgaria!"  
  
Ron frowned, not really caring who she had seen in Bulgaria. Actually, he didn't care if she kept all the details of her trip quiet.  
  
Harry, however, was interested. "Who?"  
  
"Hagrid and Madame Maxime!" She plopped down onto the bed beside Ron, her eyes sparkling with the excitement of what she had to tell them. "And guess what they were doing!"  
  
Harry shook his head. "I give up."  
  
"Hagrid was buying her a ring!" Hermione nearly squealed as she finished.  
  
"What?!" Ron turned open-mouthed to Hermione. "What was he doing that for??"  
  
Hermione beamed. "He fancies her! It wasn't an engagement ring or anything like that, but still!"  
  
"Wow," Harry breathed. "I wonder how big the ring was..." Madame Maxime was hands down the largest woman any of them had ever seen.  
  
Ron and Hermione laughed, and Hermione continued. "But isn't that sweet? He told me he felt like he needed to get her a gift so that'd she know how he felt. Isn't it terribly romantic?"  
  
Ron eyed Hermione, obviously wondering when she had turned into such a romance lover. "Be still, my heart," he said, grinning at her.  
  
Hermione smirked and hit him in the shoulder. "Oh, shut up, Ron."  
  
Ron laughed as he raised his left hand to the place where she had punched him- a bit harder than she had meant to, in fact. "Ow! That hurt!"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and flipped her hair behind her shoulder. "Well, that's what you get for making fun of me," she said matter-of-factly.  
  
Harry was suddenly very glad that he was with his two best friends. Things were so different when he was with them than when he was anywhere else. Being with Ron and Hermione was like truly being at home somewhere.  
  
Hermione, still pursing her lips in a faked anger at Ron, stood up then. "Well, I am starving. I'm going to get changed." She turned back to Ron and proceeded to swiftly kick him in his right shin. "Make fun of me again, will you?" she said with raised eyebrows.  
  
Ron immediately reached down to grab his leg. "Hermione! Are you trying to kill me or what?" He rubbed his shin rapidly. "Geeze!"  
  
Hermione ignored him and walked out of the room to change out of her pajamas. Harry laughed as Ron continued to rub his shin. "Did she really hurt you?" he asked, grinning.  
  
Ron stared at him. "Tell you what. When we go down for breakfast, ask her to give you a nice kick in the shin and see how you like it."  
  
Harry just snickered. 


	4. Off to the Coast

Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews from the last chapter! You guys are the best!!!!  
  
Disclaimer: I am not J.K. Rowling (though I did get a personal letter from her ) I don't own any of these characters.  
  
Oh! And just for the record- I have no clue how long it would really take to get to the coast from the Burrow, so I just made up my own time. And also, I hope I didn't Americanize the convenient store too much... Please let me know if I did!  
  
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Two weeks had passed quickly, and before anyone even knew it, it was time to head for the coast. Early Saturday morning, Harry, Hermione, and the six Weasleys living at the Burrow that summer all piled into the same car that Ron, Ginny, and Mr. Weasley had picked Harry up in from the Dursleys. It was small from the outside, but, unbeknownst to Mrs. Weasley, it had been bewitched to seat all eight people comfortably. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat in the front seat by themselves while all six teenagers piled into the backseat which was now the size of two couches. Fred sat by the left window with Ginny seated between himself and George. Hermione sat beside George with Ron to her right and Harry to his right beside the window.  
  
The ride was relatively uneventful considering the fact that it was a five hour trip spent in rather close proximity with not only the twins but the youngest Weasley as well plotting quietly in the backseat. Harry kept watching them, sure that they were going to spring any of their random pranks on him at any given moment. Hermione, who was sitting right beside George was also obviously fearful of the same sort of event. She kept glancing over at the twins and Ginny nervously and scooting further away from them and closer to Ron in a most inconspicuous way. Ron also appeared to be growing more nervous as Hermione moved nearer and nearer to him; he kept glancing over at her quickly and then looking away pretending he hadn't looked in the first place. Harry was watching all of this out of the corner of his eye, and when Hermione moved so close that her right leg was actually halfway on top of Ron's left, Ron started a loud coughing fit that caused everyone in the car to turn and stare at him.  
  
"Sorry," he muttered. "Dust."  
  
George snickered loudly as he spied exactly what had caused his younger brother to erupt into loud coughs, and he nudged Ginny and nodded his head in Hermione's direction.  
  
"Are you alright, Ron?" Mrs. Weasley turned around and asked in a concerned voice, "Do you need to stop for some air?"  
  
Ron nodded hurriedly. "Yeah, please." His face was extremely red, and Harry struggled with himself not to laugh. The twins and Ginny, however, were guffawing loudly. Hermione was clueless and placed her hand on Ron's arm, concerned.  
  
"Ron, are you okay?" She looked at him curiously.  
  
Ron turned an even deeper shade of scarlet and nodded once again. "Yeah, I just need some air."  
  
His father pulled the car off of the road and into a gas station, and Ron reached over Harry to open the door. Harry, anticipating that Ron was going to climb over him in such a hurry to remove himself from the car, hurried outside with Ron close behind him.  
  
"Are you okay?" Harry asked with raised eyebrows.  
  
Ron nodded quickly, "Yeah. Fine." Then he hurried away to the convenience store that stood behind them. Harry watched him with an amused look on his own face. He did hope, however, that Ginny and the twins would keep quiet around Hermione.  
  
No such luck.  
  
Hermione climbed out of the car, and the other Weasley children opened the door on the other side and exited the car as well. "I hope he's alright," said Hermione as she watched Ron hurry away. Fred, George, and Ginny came around the car, all grinning broadly.  
  
"I'm sure he's fine," said George with a huge smile.  
  
"Yeah, Hermione," Ginny raised an eyebrow at the other girl, "why don't you go make sure he's okay?"  
  
At this, both of the twins started laughing loudly, and Hermione turned her own shade of pink. "What is that supposed to mean?"  
  
Harry, knowing exactly where this conversation was going to lead, quickly grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her in the direction away from the car. "C'mon, Hermione. Let's go get something to drink."  
  
Hermione followed him with a backwards glance at Ginny and the twins. "What was that about?" she asked once they were out of earshot.  
  
Harry shrugged hurriedly. "Uh, I don't know."  
  
Hermione stared at him confused for a moment before following him into the store. Ron was standing near a display of crisps, and he looked up when they entered. He gave them a half-smile as they walked over to join him.  
  
"Feeling better, Ron?" Hermione asked.  
  
He nodded. "Yeah, it was just getting kind of crowded in there, you know?"  
  
Harry nodded, wanting to save his friend from further embarrassment. "Yeah, it was a bit, wasn't it?"  
  
Ron looked at Harry with what appeared to be gratefulness covering his face. "Yeah."  
  
"So, did you want something to drink?" Harry quickly changed the subject.  
  
Hermione obviously accepted all of this and nodded as she headed for the coolers at the back of the store. "Sure. It's really hot out there."  
  
She slid the door open and grabbed a bottle of water. "What are you guys getting?"  
  
Ron stared at the vast selection of drinks in awe. "Which one are you supposed to pick?" he asked. As a pureblooded wizard, Ron wasn't used to such things as convenience stores, so he was more than a bit confused by it all.  
  
Harry reached into the cooler and pulled out a can of Dr. Pepper. "Here, you'll like this," he said as he handed the can to his best friend. "It has loads of sugar."  
  
Ron smiled as he studied the can. "Really? Is it good?"  
  
Harry nodded, "Yeah, it's great. Isn't it Hermione?"  
  
Hermione, though, just raised her eyebrows at him. "Do you think my parents let me drink soda? That stuff rots your teeth out."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "In that case, I'll take it."  
  
Harry laughed as Hermione shot Ron a disapproving look. He reached back in and pulled out his own can of Dr. Pepper, and together, the three friends walked to the counter to check out.  
  
"I don't have any Muggle money," Ron whispered as they stood in line behind a rather large man.  
  
"I've got it," said Harry shrugging as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. When the large man was done at the counter, Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat their drinks on the counter, and Harry paid the lady behind the counter. And with that, they headed back out to the car.  
  
The twins were sitting on the back hood of the car while Ginny was leaning through the window, talking to her parents. Everyone looked up as Harry, Ron, and Hermione returned from the store, and they all repositioned themselves in the car getting ready to leave again.  
  
Once they were back on the road, Ginny leaned across George and Hermione to poke Ron in the leg. "What're you drinking?" she asked curiously.  
  
Ron, who was enjoying the sugary soft drink immensely, smiled. "It's called soda, and it rots your teeth out."  
  
Ginny looked interested. "Can I have a taste?"  
  
Ron just laughed at his little sister. "Are you crazy? I'm going to drink all of it."  
  
Ginny opened her mouth to say something snide, and Harry was willing to bet it was something that would embarrass Ron, so he quickly shoved his can into her hand. "You can have some of mine."  
  
Ginny grinned at Harry. "Thanks." And with that, she took a long drink of the soda. "Wow!" she exclaimed. "Mum, why don't we ever have this stuff?"  
  
Mrs. Weasley turned around. "What is it, Dear?"  
  
Ginny handed the can to her mother who studied it before taking a drink. She obviously liked it as well, and she handed it to Mr. Weasley who also inspected it and tasted it. Before long, all the Weasleys were passing the can between themselves, and Harry just watched them in amusement. Ron finished his own can and placed it in the floorboard under his feet before yawning. Harry watched as Ron closed his eyes, and then he looked past him at Hermione who was already fast asleep, the bottle of water clutched in her hand. Harry closed his own eyes, and before long, he had drifted into a light sleep.  
  
An hour later, Harry awoke suddenly. He glanced around him and noticed that besides Mr. Weasley, who was driving the car, he was the only one awake. Mrs. Weasley had her head slumped against the glass in front of him, and to his left, he saw Fred leaning against the glass beside his own head with Ginny laying her head in his lap, and George with his head straight back against the seat. He then noticed his best friends beside him and said silent thanks that the twins and Ginny were asleep and couldn't see what he was seeing. Hermione had turned her body nearly completely to the right and was snuggled against Ron as though she were freezing. Her left arm was draped across his chest, and she had her head tucked underneath his chin. Ron's own head was resting atop hers, and he had one hand on the arm she had draped across him. They might have looked rather sweet to some people, but the sight of them like that was rather sickening to Harry. Ron and Hermione weren't supposed to be snuggled up to anyone like that- least of all to each other. He could just imagine Ron's mortification if everyone in the car was to wake up and find him in that position with Hermione, and he wanted to save his friend from this embarrassment. So, after closing his eyes and pretending to be asleep, Harry nudged Ron as hard as he could in the ribs. He felt his best friend jerk awake suddenly, but Harry still pretended to be asleep; he did watch, however, through very tiny slits in his eyes as Ron noticed the girl curled against him and hastily moved so that Hermione fell rather roughly against George, knocking the both of them awake. With all the movement, Fred and Ginny also pulled from their slumber slowly, so Harry decided it would be best if he, too, decided to "wake."  
  
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Not too long afterwards, Mr. Weasley pulled the car into the drive of a rather large house that was sitting up the bank from the Atlantic Ocean. A man in Squib Relations obviously owed him a favor and was allowing them the use of the house for the week. It was a magnificent house, and it was to no one's surprise that all six children pushed their ways out of the car hurriedly, grabbed their suitcases, and rushed up to the house. Fred got to the door first, and he pushed it open. He stopped and stared around in awe, yelling to the others to come look. Ginny was right behind him, and she, too, stopped and looked around in amazement. George raced in behind them, but he hurried up the stairs without waiting to look around on the lower level. Ron, Harry, and Hermione bustled in right behind the others, and all three of them stopped to gaze around in awe. Ginny grabbed Hermione's hand suddenly, though, and started tugging her up the stairs.  
  
"Let's go find a room!"  
  
Ron watched his younger sister hurry up the stairs, and he turned to Harry quickly. "C'mon, Harry!"  
  
Together they raced up the magnificent staircase, dragging their suitcases behind them, and down a long hall to a room at the very end. They rushed inside and both stopped in shock. It was double the size of either of their own rooms at their homes; it was quite nearly as large as the dormitory they shared with each other and three of their classmates at school. It held two king sized beds and a huge wardrobe. There was a large desk upon which a nice sized television sat, and on the wall opposite the entrance door stood a double set of French doors which opened onto a beautiful balcony. They could see the beach through the glass doors.  
  
"Wow!" breathed Ron as he inspected the room. "Let's claim this one!"  
  
Harry nodded, and they threw their bags onto the beds before hurrying to the balcony and throwing the doors open. They were immediately met with the sounds of the waves washing upon the shores loudly. Ron smiled, and Harry marveled in awe.  
  
"I've never been to the coast," he told Ron as he leaned over the railing for a better look. "The Dursleys never took me on their vacations."  
  
"Really?" Ron leaned over as well. "I've been twice. Once when I was only four and then once when I was eleven; it was the summer before I started at Hogwarts. But I haven't been since."  
  
Before they could talk anymore, though, they were met with loud shrieking sounds coming from down the hall. They looked at each other questioningly before immediately going to see what all the commotion was about. The noises took them to the room right next to theirs. Inside they found Ginny and Hermione jumping excitedly on top of one of the two beds in a room nearly identical to their own. They were hitting each other with pillows they had snagged from the beds and were shrieking giddily as they dodged each other. Ginny, perhaps, wasn't so much out of character, but Hermione was acting much more like a giggly schoolgirl and much less like the mature one of the bunch.  
  
"Look at this room!" Ginny nearly yelped. "Isn't it gorgeous?!"  
  
Ron and Harry watched the girls in silent confusion for a moment before Ron finally said, "What the hell are you doing?"  
  
"Ron, don't swear," Hermione playfully scolded before hitting him upside the head with her pillow.  
  
He just looked up at her, a dazed look of puzzlement on his face. She grinned down at him, and Ginny laughed loudly before leaping off of the bed and knocking her brother to a heap on the ground where she proceeded to beat him with her pillow. Ron yelled loudly as Hermione, too, hopped off the bed and joined the attack. Harry just stood by laughing.  
  
At that moment, two more faces appeared in the room- two identical faces. Fred and George watched for only a moment before grabbing pillows and joining the attack as well. Fred was the first to notice Harry standing by not moving, though, and he quickly pointed this out to the others.  
  
"I don't think Potter should just stand there laughing, do you guys?"  
  
His twin stood up and grabbed Harry before shoving him to the ground. "Definitely not."  
  
Harry yelled out for Ron's help as both twins started to hit him, but, with Ginny now tickling him and Hermione sitting on top of his stomach beating him over the head with a pillow, Ron seemed a bit indisposed.  
  
"Oi, Gin!" Fred yelled to his little sister, "Bring the tickling over here!"  
  
"No!" Harry protested, but before he could make any counter-movement, Ginny had raced over and was tickling him mercilessly. Harry yelled in between fits of laughter as the twins continued to beat at him with their pillows.  
  
With all three of the other Weasleys attacking Harry, this left Ron being tortured by only one Miss Hermione Granger. She was now straddling his stomach and was laughing loudly as she hit Ron continuously with the fluffy pillow. Ron, though, was much stronger than Hermione who was rather small, and with only her to fight, he could very much defend himself. Just as she raised her arms to deliver yet another blow to him, Ron reached up and grabbed her arms, tickling her in the process. Hermione let out a huge shriek before she launched her own counterattack and started tickling Ron as well, forgetting all about the pillow she had dropped. They yelled and laughed as they tortured each other, and soon they were oblivious to the rest of the room.  
  
The rest of the room was not, however, oblivious to them. Harry noticed Fred stop beating him first, and he saw him nudge his twin quickly, nodding his head in the opposite direction. George, Ginny, and Harry all looked over at the youngest Weasley brother and the Muggle-born girl who was still straddling his stomach. The pair didn't seem to notice that all the commotion from across the room had ceased because they were still engaged in an all out tickling war against each other, shrieking and laughing giddily. Harry eyed the three Weasleys around him and immediately knew that his best friends were about to be subjected to the worst type of teasing. So, taking his attackers' break in concentration, he shoved them away and stood up, saying loudly, "Hey, Ron, Hermione! I need to talk to you guys for a second!"  
  
Ron and Hermione both stopped their playing and looked up automatically. It was obvious that they were both aware that their current position was more than a bit compromising because they each blushed about three shades pinker than normal. Hermione quickly stood up and helped Ron to his feet, and then, without so much as a glance at Ron's siblings, they followed Harry out of the room and into the room next door that Harry and Ron were sharing.  
  
"What's up?" Ron asked once they were all in the privacy of the other room.  
  
Harry suddenly realized that he had nothing whatsoever to say to his best friends, so he stuttered a bit and said, "Well... ah... You know, I forgot what I had to say."  
  
Hermione and Ron both looked at him strangely, and they looked at each other just as weirdly, as though they were having a silent conversation concerning Harry's sudden abnormality. Harry had to admit that he didn't enjoy the fact that his two closest friends were suddenly capable of having silent conversations with each other, so he quickly changed the subject.  
  
"Hey! Let's go swimming!" he suggested brightly. Ron's face lit up at the proposal, but Hermione shook her head disapprovingly.  
  
"Harry, we just got here, and we haven't eaten all day. It would probably be a good idea to have lunch first," she said sensibly.  
  
"Don't be stupid, Hermione," Ron said with a roll of the eyes. "Swim first, eat later- that's the way you do it. You swim and work up an appetite, and anyway, if we eat now, Mum will make us wait hours before we go swimming so our food can digest properly. And it'll be too late by then."  
  
Hermione responded with her own roll of the eyes. "Whatever, Ron. Fine."  
  
Harry was surprised to see that a fight hadn't brewed between the two of them because it was not very often that either of his best friends simply gave into the other. He shrugged it off, though, as Hermione exited the room to change into her swimming apparel. He saw Ron open his suitcase and start throwing clothes on the floor in an attempt to find his own swim clothes, so Harry followed suit and searched through his own suitcase.  
  
Minutes after they'd changed into their swimming trunks, a knock was heard at the door. Assuming that it was Hermione, Harry yelled a quick "Come in" without looking up.  
  
"Hermione told me you're going swimming, so I'm going, too," a very pointed and unquestioning voice informed them from the doorway. Harry looked up to see Ginny Weasley standing with her hands on her hips and her hair pulled into a high ponytail; she was dressed in a pale blue bathing suit that consisted of a halter style top that bared most of her stomach until a tiny pair of matching shorts began underneath her bellybutton.  
  
Harry was, for some reason, suddenly very glad that all the Weasley children basically had good Muggle fashion sense. He didn't know why this thought had crept into his head, though, so he promptly stored it away somewhere in the back of his brain.  
  
"Who said you could come?" Ron asked, his eyes connecting dangerously with those of his little sister.  
  
Ginny stepped further into the room until she was directly in front of Ron. She was shorter than him, of course, but she was still rather tall for a girl, and the top of her head reached the bottom of his chin easily. She looked up at her brother and glared daringly at him, her hands still planted on her hips. "Who said you could stop me?"  
  
Harry couldn't pretend that he wasn't a bit amused by the Weasley versus Weasley sibling rivalry that had recently seemed to transpire between Ron and Ginny. Up until now, he'd seen Ginny as a rather quiet, shy little girl. She suddenly seemed to be losing the quiet trait and growing into a fiery sort of girl who was holding her own extremely easily against her older brother. He knew Ron better than he knew anyone else in the world, though, and he was quite sure Ron was not going to allow himself to be bullied by his little sister.  
  
"Ginny, you are such a brat." Ron's comeback was more than a bit childish, and Harry couldn't suppress the giggle that escaped from his lips. This snicker, of course, earned a rather nasty glare from his best friend and a matching giggle from his best friend's only younger sibling.  
  
"What the hell is so funny?" Ron demanded furiously.  
  
"What's so funny, dear brother," both of the twins entered the room dressed in their own swimming attire, "is the fact that you and our darling Virginia have yet to mature into your ages." Fred said all of this in a rather uncanny impression of Percy.  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes as she turned to the twins. In a voice equally as haughty, she said, "I cannot tell you how thrilled I am to be offered lessons on maturity from the most grown-up seventeen year olds I know." When she had finished with her sarcasm, she offered them an extremely fake smile, "Oh, and by the way, don't call me Virginia. It makes you sound like Mum."  
  
"Virginia, dear," said Fred, completely ignoring her. "Might I inquire about your choice of clothing?"  
  
Ginny glared at her brother as though condemning him for being stupid. "It is called a swimsuit, Frederick."  
  
George laughed. "How sad I am that I have no name to be tortured by... William, Charles, Percivial, Frederick, Ronald, Virginia..." He gave a sad sort of smile. "How did I manage to be the only one out of seven stuck with a name incapable of being cut into a nickname?"  
  
"I wouldn't worry about it, Georgina," Fred said grinning. He then turned to the youngest Weasley. "Anyway, you call that a swimsuit?"  
  
Ginny glared once more at him. "Well, I can't bloody well run around in a pair of swimming trunks like you lot, now can I?"  
  
"It isn't as if we all haven't seen you naked before, sister dear," George said with a smirk.  
  
"Ah," added Fred slyly to his twin, "not everyone in this room has lived with her for fourteen years, though..." He gave a very obvious glance in Harry's direction.  
  
This conversation caused both Harry and Ginny to turn very deep shades of crimson. And it caused Ron to turn a rather pale shade of green.  
  
"Just shut up," Ron said quickly, a very obvious tone of warning in his voice. The twins snickered at everyone else's uncomfortable states, and surprisingly, Ron prevented himself from throwing punches at their identical noses. Instead, he just said, "Where's Hermione?"  
  
Ginny, obviously glad to have the room's attention taken away from her, answered him, red still burning into her cheeks. "She said that her suit was being a bit disagreeable. I offered to help, but she said she'd take care of it."  
  
"Perhaps she said this because you are not the Weasley she wanted help from," offered George with a smirk.  
  
Ginny and Fred both grinned mischievously in Ron's direction. "What do you say, Ron?" Fred teased, "Why don't you go help the lovely Miss Granger fix her suit properly?"  
  
Ron's greenish shade quickly changed into one of a red darker than his hair. He looked down at the ground for a second, and Harry was very aware that Ron's embarrassment was probably tripled with the presence of his best friend in the room. Harry almost excused himself quietly, but he got sidetracked when he wondered how long the other three school-age Weasleys has been ganging up on Ron and teasing him. He felt bad for Ron, but he wasn't going to pretend as though he hadn't noticed Ron's behavior and attitude concerning all things Hermione had changed greatly in the past year.  
  
And he wasn't going to pretend that he liked it, either.  
  
Ron had never told him that he had any sort of feelings for Hermione that didn't concern friendship, and he wasn't about to go making his own assumptions and jumping to conclusions. Mainly because he didn't want to think that Ron might... well... like Hermione- as more than a friend. That was simply too weird of a thought to think. The thought of Ron and Hermione as more than friends was... well, it was just kind of gross. And if they by some off-chance did like each other, where would that leave Harry?  
  
Alone? Abandoned by his best friends? The third wheel?  
  
And, oh no, he was not going to play the go-between for them anymore than he already did. He'd spent five years forcing them to talk to each other at least once a week after they'd get into a huge row and start punishing each other with the silent treatment. He hated to think of what they would be like if they were dating. No, he was definitely not going to play the middle-man in that production. No way at all.  
  
He did feel awful for Ron, though. It must have been terribly embarrassing to have everyone teasing him like that. Ron had now turned his glare away from the floor and back to his siblings.  
  
"You can all shove off. C'mon, Harry." He motioned for Harry to follow him out of the room, and Harry went with a quick glance at three smirking redheads.  
  
Just as they turned the corner of the doorway, though, the door next to them opened and Hermione popped out.  
  
Bloody hell. She just had to be wearing a suit nearly identical to Ginny's except in crimson red, now didn't she? This was just all Harry needed at the moment- him with fleeting appreciation of the Weasley children's love for Muggle style and Ron with what was quite obvious rooted appreciation at a certain brown-haired bookworm's taste in clothing as well. Hermione stared at them with shy eyes for a second; she was clutching at the back of her neck, obviously holding the suit up by hand and not by the strings.  
  
"I can't get it tied," she told them shyly. She turned around to where her back faced them, and with one hand held the strings together and with the other lifted her long hair away from her neck. "Could you help me?"  
  
Harry chanced a glance at Ron who was staring at the back of Hermione as though she were a giant tarantula- he looked positively terrified of her. Harry rolled his eyes and quickly moved to take the strings from Hermione's hands. "Here, I'll do it," he said as he rapidly tied the back of her suit together.  
  
When he was finished, Hermione turned back around and beamed at him. "Thanks, Harry."  
  
Harry shrugged a response and started toward the staircase, leaving one very flabbergasted best friend and one very confused best friend behind him.  
  
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So? What do you guys think? I hope you enjoyed it! If you did (or if you didn't even), click the little blue box and reply, please! :) 


	5. Illegal Acts

Disclaimer: I own none of them...  
  
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Harry was sitting on the balcony that connected to his room with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Ginny was painting her nails a bright shade of lilac, and Hermione was unsurprisingly leafing through the book of spells Sirius had given Harry for his birthday. Harry and Ron were playing a game of wizard's chess with the set Ron had brought from home. They'd spent the past two days by the pool and on the beach, and they were getting a bit worn out on it.  
  
Ron had just instructed his knight to take out Harry's bishop when the door to the balcony slid open, and the twins joined the rest of the teenagers. They were both looking very guilty, and Harry was not the only one to notice.  
  
"What have you two been doing?" Ron asked suspiciously after the aforementioned bishop fell from the table in three separate pieces.  
  
Fred grinned at his younger brother. "Oh, not too much."  
  
"Right," said Ginny, eyeing the oldest boys incriminatingly. "Fess up."  
  
George patted his sister on the head jokingly. "Yes, Mum."  
  
Ginny glared at him. "Just tell us what you've been doing."  
  
"Okay, okay," George said exasperatedly. "You guys are no fun at all." Turning to his twin, he said, "Go ahead and show them."  
  
Fred pulled what looked like several cards from his pocket and handed one each to Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and Harry. "Take a look at these."  
  
Harry looked down and saw a picture of himself staring back up. The picture was not moving, though, as was common of wizard's pictures. No, this picture was completely still and accompanied by a list of information about Harry. It looked like a driver's license.  
  
He glanced up at the twins who were grinning broadly. Fred offered the explanation. "Ids," he said simply.  
  
"What do we need these for?" Ginny asked with raised eyebrows.  
  
"Because we're going to that nightclub in town tonight," George said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It's time to really have some fun on this vacation."  
  
"This isn't my birthday," Hermione said suddenly.  
  
George rolled his eyes. "Of course, it's not. Do you think they'll let you in with your real birthday? You're not even fifteen yet."  
  
Hermione looked down at the ID and then back up at the twins. "You have to be eighteen to get into nightclubs."  
  
George sighed loudly. "Would you try and follow, Hermione? We know you have to be eighteen. That's why we changed your birthday on the ID..." He spoke as though she were a two year old child.  
  
"Fake IDs are illegal," Hermione said quite matter-of-factly.  
  
Fred groaned and turned to Ron and Harry. "Would you two do something about her?"  
  
Hermione looked quite offended by this. "Do you realize how much trouble we could get into for having these?" she asked haughtily.  
  
"Oh, come on, Hermione! Live a little!" Ginny shook her head at the older girl before grinning at the two trouble-makers who had supplied the IDs. "I think it's cool."  
  
"At least someone knows how to have fun," said Fred before rounding once again on Ron and Harry. "What about you two?"  
  
Ron was looking quite mischievous himself. "This is wicked."  
  
The twins smiled back at him. "Harry?" George queried, staring at his little brother's best friend.  
  
Harry, to be quite honest, had never dreamed of sneaking into a nightclub illegally. But to tell the truth, the idea of doing something so scandalous was rather appealing. "As long as we don't get caught..."  
  
This pleased everyone except for Hermione who was staring at her best friends angrily. "Do you understand that using this would be ILLEGAL?"  
  
Ron just rolled his eyes. "Hermione, don't be like that."  
  
But Hermione just glared at him. "And what are you planning on telling your parents? I hope you don't think that they're going to allow you to sneak off into some nightclub illegally!" She kept stressing the word illegal.  
  
Fred interjected the explanation here. "We already told them we were going to that amusement park tonight. And they're going out as well, so it's not like it matters anyway."  
  
Hermione was still not convinced. "This is illegal!"  
  
"We get the bloody idea!" Ron suddenly exclaimed, a bit louder than he meant to. "It's not like you've never broken a rule in your life," he pointed out obviously.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Breaking school rules is one thing- breaking the law is quite another."  
  
But Ron just wrinkled his forehead at her before saying, "Don't pretend like you wouldn't rather be put in jail than expelled."  
  
This caused everyone else to snicker, and Hermione to grow even angrier.  
  
"It's illegal!" she insisted yet again.  
  
Harry saw that all of the Weasleys were about to attempt murder on a certain Muggle-born witch, so he took that as his cue to step in. "Hermione, we won't get caught. They look completely real."  
  
Hermione frowned as she stared down at the card, obviously hoping to find some fault to point out. When she found none, she sighed loudly. "Fine! But if we get caught, I'm holding the four of you personally responsible."  
  
***********************************  
  
Later that night, Harry found himself getting ready for his first visit to a nightclub. Ron seemed absolutely thrilled with the idea of doing something as scandalous as sneaking into a nightclub illegally, but as the time drew nearer, Harry found himself growing more nervous. He was getting afraid that no one would believe their suddenly upped ages. Fred, George, and perhaps even Ron could pass for eighteen, but he, Ginny, and Hermione looked nowhere near the legal age. What if they got caught?  
  
The twins and Ron were all in the room as well, putting the finishing touches on their ensembles. They had all managed to make themselves look older, but Harry was sure that he still looked like the barely-fifteen year old that he was.  
  
"I don't think I look old enough," he said after peering in the mirror carefully.  
  
Fred shook his head. "It'll be fine. It's going to be dark, so no one will even be able to tell."  
  
"Yeah," said George as he pulled on his shoes. "The main one we should be worried about is Hermione. Ginny can pull it off because she's so tall, but Hermione's kind of short."  
  
This was true. Ginny towered Hermione by about four inches, as Hermione stood only at about 5'3". If they could get Hermione in, the rest of them would be fine.  
  
Almost as if on cue, the door to the boys' room opened, and the two girls entered. Harry's eyes fell firstly on Ginny who was wearing a denim skirt similar to the one Hermione had been wearing in the picture in Quidditch Center. It fell to her knees and was slit just slightly on each side. And she was wearing what looked more like a bandana than a shirt; it was a piece of blue material that wrapped around her body instead of having any sort of straps, and it came to a V in the front of her stomach, leaving the sides of her abdomen showing. On her feet, she wore black leather boots that almost reached her knees. Obviously, being the only girl in the family meant always getting new clothes.  
  
She looked... well, Harry didn't want to think of the word he knew would fit the situation. At once, he wondered when she had grown up so much. Ginny Weasley was suddenly very pretty, and this realization scared Harry just a bit.  
  
Still, his eyes moved to Hermione who was standing a little behind Ginny. She was wearing black pants that flared out at the bottom and sat on low on her hips a good distance below her bellybutton. The shirt she was wearing, consequently, ended a good distance above her bellybutton. It was a silver, satiny shirt that tied behind her neck in the same fashion swimsuit had done, and it left her entire stomach to be viewed. She, like Ginny, was wearing her hair straight down, and they both had what appeared to some sort of glitter covering their bodies. Fleetingly, Harry also wondered when Hermione had gotten so pretty.  
  
Harry glanced at Ron who was studying the floor quite intently, obviously doing his very best not to stare at their female best friend. Harry rolled his eyes to himself slightly; this was already getting old.  
  
"Are we ready?" Fred asked suddenly. Then he turned to his little sister, "Gin, I think you need to put something on over that."  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up, Fred."  
  
***************************************  
  
Surprisingly enough, getting into the club proved to be quite easy. The bouncer did not question any of them; he simply glanced at their IDs and shrugged them inside. The moment they entered the club, Harry was in awe. He'd never been into a nightclub before, and it was exactly as he'd always imagined it would be. The lights were barely there, and the smell of smoke and alcohol was nearly suffocating. It was nearly impossible to hear himself think with the loud music blaring, but he could hear Ron nearly giddy with excitement behind him.  
  
"Hey, look! It's football!" Harry looked to where his best friend was pointing and saw a bar area with a television that was playing a football game between two teams that Harry didn't recognize. He knew that Ron had a slight obsession with the sport despite the fact that he'd never witnessed a game; it had all come from living with Dean Thomas for four years. While the rest of the wizards in their class might have blown off Dean's Muggle sport of choice, Ron had always been more than interested. "Let's go watch!" he cried, dragging Harry off without a backwards glance at the other Weasleys and Hermione.  
  
They watched the game for a good hour before Ron finally tired of it and decided that they needed to find Fred, George, Ginny, and Hermione. He reasoned that Hermione was probably keeping his brothers and sister from having any fun with her constant lecturing of how wrong their current actions were. "We better go save them," he said as he led Harry through the crowded club.  
  
Finding the twins and Ginny was easy enough; the red hair was a simple trait to spot. Hermione was not with them, though, and when Harry asked where she was, Fred shrugged and said, "She ran off not too long ago. I think she went that way." He pointed to his left.  
  
"Why did she run off?" Ron asked curiously. "She didn't leave, did she?" He looked angry. "I swear to God if she runs home and tells Mum and Dad..."  
  
George laughed and shook his head. "No, she ran off because she said we were boring her."  
  
"Boring her?" Harry was shocked.  
  
"Yeah," piped Ginny. "Apparently alcohol agrees quite nicely with Hermione- makes her sociable at least."  
  
Alcohol. Hermione had been drinking? Harry didn't have time to even think of the reasons behind this because he found himself being dragged rather roughly by his best friend across the club. When they spotted her, though, they were not surprised for the sight.  
  
Ron glanced at Harry with huge eyes as they both spied the scene in front of them. Hermione was in the middle of a large group of people- mostly men much older than her- and was dancing in a manner that was actually quite good. She had one arm around the neck of a guy who looked like he was probably twenty-three or twenty-four and who appeared to be enjoying himself immensely, and her free hand was holding a half-empty cup. She was giggling madly.  
  
"She's sloshed!" Ron said in disbelief, his eyes still the size of saucers as he stared at the sight in front of him.  
  
He was right, of course. It definitely appeared that Miss Hermione Granger was, indeed, drunk. Harry could only nod in agreement with the obvious.  
  
"And why is that guy touching her?!" Ron was fuming by this point. "He shouldn't have his hands anywhere on her!"  
  
Before Harry could stop him, Ron had barged into the circle straight toward Hermione. Harry followed helplessly, praying that Ron wouldn't try and knock the older guy out. Thankfully, Ron ignored the prat and simply grabbed Hermione's arm, yanking her away from the other guy's grasp. "Hermione," he hissed, "what the hell are you doing?!"  
  
Hermione's eyes lit up when she saw him. "Ron!" she exclaimed giddily before turning to the group of people. "This is my friend Ron," she explained to everyone. "Ron... Where's..." she seemed to have momentarily forgotten the name, "Harry! Where's Harry?"  
  
"I'm right here, Hermione," Harry said quietly.  
  
"You're right there!" Hermione giggled loudly. "This is Harry! And this is Ron!" she repeated for the group. "These are my best friends." Grinning madly, she reached up and poked at one of Ron's dimples. "Aren't they cuties?"  
  
Ron blushed madly before leaning down to her ear once more and hissing his question again. "Hermione, what the hell are you doing? You're drunk!"  
  
She laughed loudly. "I am not drunk!" Then, turning to Harry and using what she obviously thought was a whisper (loud as it was), added, "Okay, so maybe I'm a little drunk." She used her forefinger and thumb to illustrate just how little drunk she was.  
  
"We've got to get her away from here," Harry told Ron quietly, and Ron nodded his agreement.  
  
They each took one of Hermione's arms and tried to lead her away from the crowded group of people. The guy she had previously been dancing with, though, seemed to have other plans. He reached out for her and tried to grab her shoulders, but Ron shot him a deadly look. "Leave her alone."  
  
The guy just laughed, though, and said, "I think she'd rather stay here with us."  
  
"You shut the fuck up and get away from her," Ron said angrily. Harry prayed that a fight didn't pursue.  
  
"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, shocked. "Don't swear! I've told you that before; I know I have!" She turned to Harry, "I've told him not to swear before, haven't I?"  
  
Harry just nodded slightly, "Yes, Hermione, you have."  
  
"I knew it!" she said triumphantly. "I knew I told you not to swear, Ron." She turned to a random girl in the circle and addressed her as though they were old best friends, "I've told him a million times not to swear, but he just doesn't listen!"  
  
Ron sighed and pulled her once more, causing her to tumble sideways until she had spun around to face him. She wrapped both of her arms around his neck and smiled up at him widely.  
  
Harry knew that this was definitely not a good thing.  
  
"It's okay, Ron," she said happily. "I forgive you for swearing."  
  
"Gee, Hermione, that's real nice," Ron said sarcastically.  
  
Suddenly she started giggling incessantly, her head tilted straight up to stare at him. Ron was just staring at her. Finally, he said, "What's so funny?"  
  
"You're really tall," she answered through giggles. "I didn't notice how tall you were till just now."  
  
With that said, her eyes suddenly started to close, and she dropped quite instantly. Ron grabbed her waist and saved her from hitting the ground. Her eyes flew open and she stared at Ron for only a second before going straight back into her giggling stage.  
  
"I almost fell," she told him.  
  
He nodded. "Yes, you almost did." Then Ron, still holding Hermione by the waist, turned to Harry with pleading eyes. "I'll take her over there," he threw his head in the direction of a practically empty corner.  
  
Harry nodded and followed behind Ron as he practically dragged Hermione a few feet away from the crowd before she finally straightened up enough to walk. Or at least attempt to. She seemed to be having difficulty remembering which foot went next as he stepped, and she grabbed onto Ron's elbow for support. But when she suddenly lost all ability to walk and tripped over her own feet, Harry grabbed her other arm quickly and caught her.  
  
She grinned at him. "There you are, Harry! I didn't know where you were, but there you are!"  
  
Honestly, Harry was starting to find this whole situation just a bit funny. He glanced over her head at Ron who was holding onto her waist and looking at her in complete disbelief.  
  
"I can't believe that you're drunk!" Ron said once more as the two boys finally managed to get her to a nearly deserted corner and onto a stool beside a high table.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes at this and said, "I am not drunk! Harry, tell him I am not drunk!"  
  
Harry didn't know whether or not to appease Hermione, but he decided on telling her the truth. "You are drunk."  
  
She huffed up a bit, seemingly angry at first, before yet again dropping into a fit of giggles. "You two are so funny!"  
  
Harry and Ron shared another look of consensual disbelief before Hermione started rambling again.  
  
"Did you meet my friend?" she asked suddenly. "His name is Roger. Or wait, maybe it's Robert..." She grinned at Ron, "But I know it's not Ronald because that's you!" She pointed a finger at him as if to remind him of his own name.  
  
"Yeah, and he was ten years older than you," Ron said bitterly.  
  
To this, Hermione rolled her eyes. "He was not ten years older than me. Ron, you need to learn how to add."  
  
"Oh, no? How old was he, Hermione?" Ron asked haughtily.  
  
She smiled and said, "Twenty-four."  
  
"And you're fourteen..." Ron looked as though he was getting a bit tired of talking sense into her. "That's ten years."  
  
"I'm not fourteen!" she protested.  
  
"Yes, you are!" Ron insisted just as indignantly.  
  
"I'm not!" She turned to Harry, "Harry, tell him I'm not fourteen!"  
  
"You are fourteen, Hermione," Harry said quietly.  
  
Hermione looked extremely put-out by this revelation. "Well, I'm almost fifteen!" she said, as though this made any difference. "So... so, duh!"  
  
"Duh!?" The look on Ron's face was highly amusing to Harry. "Did she just say 'duh?!'"  
  
Harry took a breath and nodded slightly. "Yeah..."  
  
At this, Hermione once again put a huge smile on her face as she put an arm around Harry's neck and pulled him into a half-hug. "But it's okay," she said seriously, "because my ID says I'm eighteen." She used her free hand which was still holding the half-empty cup of pink liquid to raise the cup to her lips.  
  
Ron quickly grabbed it before she could take another drink and set it on the table behind them. "You don't need anymore of that, Hermione."  
  
The brown-headed witch looked as though she was going to give Ron a serious telling-off for daring to take her drink, but before she could remember how to fight, her eyes closed once again and she slumped, nearly falling off the stool. Luckily, her arm was still around Harry's neck, and Ron was quick enough to grab her waist and push her back onto the stool. After opening her eyes, Hermione stared from one of them to the other before finally deciding she wanted to address Ron.  
  
"You might want to keep your hand there in case I fall again." She glanced down at Ron's arm which was wrapped tightly around her narrow waist.  
  
Harry watched as Ron turned a little pinker than normal and said, "Hermione, how did this happen?"  
  
"How did it happen?" Hermione flashed him a huge grin for the millionth time that evening and launched into an explanation for something Ron had not requested. "Well, I almost fell, and you grabbed onto to me. And it's nice." Ron turned even pinker at this. "You're nice; you're both nice!" She smiled at Harry as well. "You guys are the best! You're my best friends, right? You know that, right?"  
  
Harry and Ron glanced at each other and then back at Hermione. "That's nice," Harry said, trying to be as patient as possible with his drunk friend.  
  
Hermione still had one arm around Harry's neck, and she leaned over and placed a quick kiss on his forehead. "I love you, Harry. You're so sweet!"  
  
Harry felt himself blushing slightly as he quickly said, "Thanks, Hermione."  
  
She grinned once more and then put her free arm around Ron's neck. Leaning over to place a kiss against his cheek, she said, "And I love you, too, Ron. And even though you're not as nice as Harry, and you make me scream all the time, I still love you because you're really cute."  
  
"Uh..." Ron's mouth was now completely open, and he had achieved a deep crimson color. Harry was just thankful that they were alone and that no one else was witnessing this very different drunk Hermione.  
  
"See?" she said, smiling. "You're blushing, and it's so cute. You know why? Because it matches your hair!" She ran a hand over the hair at the base of his neck and giggled, "Isn't that funny? They match!" She then moved the hand around to the side of his cheek and poked once again at his dimple, "And you know this dimple? I love this dimple! You're just so cute!"  
  
Harry glanced at Ron and was suddenly quite sure that if Ron turned any redder, he could pass as a lobster. Hermione was having more than a definite effect on Ron, and Harry was quite frightened by this. He'd been telling himself that there was no proof of Ron's feelings for Hermione up until that point, but there was no denying it now. Not when Ron looked as though he were going to faint at any moment.  
  
Hermione turned to Harry at this point and said quite seriously, "But don't worry, Harry. You're cute, too! Just maybe not as cute... But it's okay because you're really nice! And Ron is so mean to me sometimes he makes me cry!"  
  
Harry wasn't sure whether he should feel flattered or offended by her remarks, so he just nodded uneasily. "Okay, Hermione..." He turned to Ron, hoping to bring his friend out of his sudden near catatonic-state. "What are we going to do?"  
  
Ron, though, completely ignored him and addressed Hermione. "I am not mean to you!"  
  
She turned to him with huge eyes at his claim. "Yes, you are!"  
  
"I am not!" he cried just as indignantly.  
  
"You are!" she insisted. "You're so mean sometimes that I cry!"  
  
Ron frowned slightly. "Well, you always agitate me so much that I can't help it!"  
  
Harry stepped in quickly just as Hermione opened her mouth to fuel the rapidly building argument. "What are we going to do?" he asked Ron again, this time a bit more urgently.  
  
"What are we going to do about what?" Hermione asked curiously.  
  
"About the fact that you're completely sloshed!" Ron supplied heatedly.  
  
Hermione let out a loud sigh and said quite loudly, "For the millionth time, I am not drunk!"  
  
"Ah, the first sign of drunkenness is denying your insobriety." The three friends looked up to see Fred approach them with George and Ginny close behind.  
  
Ron rounded on them quicker than Harry would have thought possible. "Who the hell let her drink this much?!" he demanded angrily.  
  
"She didn't drink that much," said George eyeing his younger brother. "Apparently, she just has a low tolerance- a really, really low tolerance."  
  
Ron was furious. "You were supposed to be watching her! Some old man had his hands all over her!"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes dramatically and pulled on Ron's arm. "Honestly, Ron! He was not an old man! And his hands were not all over me!"  
  
Ron stared at her incredulously. "Yes, he was!" Then he turned back to his siblings. "I can't believe you let her get this way!"  
  
"What the bloody hell are we going to do?!" Harry demanded again loudly. Everyone looked at him in shock because he rarely cursed or raised his voice angrily.  
  
"Harry!" gasped Hermione. "Don't swear! Haven't you heard me tell Ron a thousand times not to swear?!"  
  
Harry was finding himself at the end of his rope. Through gritted teeth, he said quite bitterly, "Yes, Hermione, I have. Now would you shut up for two seconds while we figure this out?"  
  
She looked at him shocked for a moment before turning away from him. "Ginny! Let's go dance!" She hopped off of the stool, nearly falling in the process, giggled, and grabbed Ginny's hand to drag her back onto the dance floor. Ginny looked backwards helplessly. Ron started to go after them and start them, but George held his hand up to stop him.  
  
"Harry's right," George said, suddenly seriously. "We have to figure out what to do."  
  
"Yeah," agreed Fred. "If Mum or Dad sees her like that, we're all in deep shit..."  
  
Ron sighed; he still looked furious. He knew that everyone was right, though, so he nodded. "Look, Mum and Dad should be back soon, right?"  
  
"In about an hour, I think," George said, glancing at his watch.  
  
Ron nodded. "Right. So, Harry and I will take Hermione back to the house, and you three can stay here just in case Mum and Dad are already back. It'll be easier for three people to sneak in than six, right? Well, we'll take her back and get her sobered up a bit. Then the rest of you can come in later, okay?"  
  
Everyone nodded their agreement. Harry and Ron left the twins to go hunt Hermione and Ginny down in the crowd. They spotted them on the far side of the dance floor. Hermione was practically being held up by Ginny who was glancing around anxiously for some help. She looked extremely thankful when Harry and Ron showed up to relieve her.  
  
"Help me," she pleaded, nodding her head at a practically passed out Hermione who was leaning heavily against her.  
  
Ron instantly grabbed Hermione and stumbled a bit as her full weight came to lean against him. Her back was against him, and Ron was holding her around the middle as her head dipped forward and her eyes closed completely. He looked at Harry helplessly. "Look, tell Ginny what's going on, and I'll meet you outside. I think she needs some air..."  
  
Harry nodded, and Ron started dragging Hermione toward the exit of the nightclub. Her feet soon lost all ability to move, however, and she was rooted to one place, her eyes shut and her head lolling from side to side. "C'mon, Hermione," Ron pleaded softly. "Just walk... It's just a little further." When she gave no sign of hearing him, he sighed worriedly and decided that literally dragging her was the only way he was going to get her outside short of carrying her which he feared would bring just a bit too much attention to them- they were underage, after all.  
  
Ron managed to get her outside after much difficulty; she was small, yes, but seeing as she had passed out, she was a dead weight in his arms. She was not nearly as light as she should have been. Once they were out of the smoky club and into the fresh night air, Hermione stirred enough to look up once before letting her head fall again. Ron moved her to a bench where he could seat her, and once she was safely on the bench, he squatted in front of her.  
  
"Hermione? Hey, Hermione, wake up," he begged gently. She gave no response, so he lightly reached up and patted her cheeks which were very flushed. "Please, wake up..."  
  
She moaned something, and her eyes fluttered open slowly to stare at him. She no longer seemed to be in her giggly mood; in fact, she looked as though she could start crying if she really wanted to. "Ron," she croaked in a deep, quiet voice, "I think I'm going to be sick..."  
  
Ron, who still had his hand against her warm cheek, cringed at her words. "Can you wait just a few minutes until we get back to the beach house?" he asked her.  
  
She swallowed with a horrible look on her face and nodded her head much more slowly than she normally would have. "Yeah, I think so."  
  
He gave her a half-smile and moved his hand to her shoulder which he squeezed encouragingly. "That's good."  
  
Suddenly, Hermione eyes started to shut yet again, and she leaned forward to place her forehead against Ron's shoulder. Her arms went around him as she supported herself completely against him. Ron, who was quite terrified by the whole situation, patted her awkwardly on the back as soothingly as possible. He was having a bit of trouble holding his balance in the squatting position with Hermione's added weight, and he was quite thankful when Harry showed back up.  
  
"Is she okay?" Harry asked nervously.  
  
"I think so," Ron said, turning to glance at the side of Hermione's head which was still on his shoulder.  
  
"Can she walk?" Harry asked with the same nervous tone.  
  
Ron felt Hermione shake her head slightly, and he heard her mumble, "No, I'm going to pass out..."  
  
He frowned and looked up at his other best friend. "I can't carry her all the way back," he said worriedly. "It was hard enough getting her out here!"  
  
Harry returned the worried expression for a moment before suddenly being hit with an obvious solution. "We'll just get a cab! I've got some extra money."  
  
Ron let out a huge sigh of relief and nodded hurriedly. "Great!"  
  
They waited only a few minutes before a cab pulled up to the side of the road beside the bench and stopped for them. Harry reached over and helped to pull Hermione off of Ron enough, so that Ron could stand up. Together, they moved the now unconscious Hermione into the back of the cab and slid in beside her. The driver turned around to grin at them. "Is she going to make it?" he asked knowingly.  
  
Harry just nodded hurriedly and told the man where to take them. He glanced over at his best friends. He was shocked to suddenly find Hermione dropping sideways onto Ron's lap; her arm reached out to fall against his own lap, and Harry was very aware that Ron's nervousness was probably double that which he was feeling. He looked at his best friend silently and saw that Ron was staring down at Hermione, his eyes wide in fear. He looked at Harry suddenly and said, "What if she pukes on me?"  
  
Harry couldn't help but be amused at the image of Hermione waking up only to vomit in Ron's lap. Luckily for them all, though, Hermione stayed unconscious until the cab pulled up to the beach house. Harry quickly paid the driver and slid out of the car with Ron right behind him. He watched as Ron reached in and pulled Hermione across the seat by her arms until she was sprawled out completely over the seat with her head hanging out the door. Ron let out an exasperated groan and turned to Harry expectantly who quickly leaned down to help remove Hermione from the car. They yanked together, and Hermione was finally extracted from the vehicle only to fall headfirst out and knock Ron to the ground in the process. Quite luckily, she landed on Ron's lap instead of the concrete. The sudden movement jerked her awake, though, and she opened her eyes to look around, confused. Harry heard the driver of the cab laughing loudly as he watched the scene before driving away.  
  
Harry looked down to see Ron trying to lift Hermione off of him. "Come on, Hermione," he was saying as he pushed her, "We need to go inside."  
  
Hermione's eyes were glazed over, and she smiled very sleepily and shook her head. "I don't want to," she insisted.  
  
Ron sighed as he gave yet another useless shove. "Hermione, I don't care what you want to do! We have to go inside!"  
  
Hermione, though, seemed to be in a very stubborn mood suddenly, and she shook her head yet again. "I want to sit out here like this."  
  
Harry was watching the whole thing in silent amusement. As long as he wasn't the one to be vomited on, he was quite fine with staying outside and watching his best friends in their latest predicament.  
  
Ron looked sternly at the girl who was occupying his lap and said, "You're heavy!"  
  
Hermione looked positively scandalized by this statement, and she glared at Ron in disbelief. "Are you saying I'm fat?!"  
  
Ron looked ready to pull his hair out as he nearly screamed, "Do you look fat?!"  
  
Hermione threw her hands into the air dramatically and said, "I don't know! Do I?"  
  
Ron looked up at Harry, "Help me!" Harry just shrugged, though, and received a death glare from his best friend. Ron turned back to Hermione and tried to speak to her rationally and calmly. "Hermione, you are not fat. But I have been dragging you around all night, and every time you pass out, you're like a dead weight!" he finished not quite so calmly.  
  
Hermione suddenly looked as though she were ready to cry. "I'm sorry that I'm so heavy... I'm sorry you've been dragging me around. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!!!"  
  
Ron sighed loudly. "Don't be sorry. Just please get up," he looked at her pleadingly. "Because if Mum and Dad get back and find you like this, we're all going to be loads of trouble!"  
  
"Oh, alright!" Hermione huffed. She made a serious move to get up, but seeing as she was still quite intoxicated, she only managed to move herself a few feet from the ground before falling back onto Ron and knocking him onto his back. She had, Harry noted, somehow turned around while falling and landed face to face on top of Ron. Why Harry had expected anything less, he had no idea; this was just a wonderful position for the two of them to be in...  
  
Ron was staring up at her with the most horrific expression on his face, as though he were terrified. Harry did take notice, however, that Ron was suddenly making no movement whatsoever to move Hermione from her current position. In fact, Harry wasn't even completely sure that Ron was breathing...  
  
Hermione was staring back at him just as intently for a good thirty seconds before she dropped back into a deep sleep, her head falling rather roughly right against Ron's chest and settling there quite nicely. Ron looked up at Harry helplessly and said, "Get her off!"  
  
Harry knew that their time was getting cut close, so he reached down and grabbed Hermione under her arms. She was rather heavy, just as Ron had said, in her deep sleep. Harry tugged her upwards, but was met with a loud yell of pain from Ron. Apparently, Hermione had managed to grab a handful of Ron's hair, and when Harry pulled her up, Ron's hair as well was yanked.  
  
Harry looked at his friend apologetically but said, "Sorry! But what am I supposed to do?"  
  
"Just get her the hell off of me!" Ron said, reaching up to pry Hermione's fingers from his mass of red locks.  
  
Once he had managed this task, Harry once again attempted to heave Hermione away from Ron. He managed to get her to her feet after a lot of struggling, but he held her long enough for Ron to leap to his feet and take some of Hermione's weight away from him.  
  
"Let's just get her inside," Ron breathed heavily. Harry nodded, and together, they walked her toward the house, dragging their female counterpart between them. Once they got inside, they both glanced around quickly to make sure there were no signs of either of the adult Weasleys.  
  
Ron looked at Harry pointedly and told him the rest of the plan. "Right. Now you stay down here and be on the lookout for Mum and Dad. If you see them coming, yell up to me, okay? I'm going to take her upstairs and see if I can get her sobered up some."  
  
Harry nodded. "Okay. If you need anything, just yell, okay?"  
  
Ron smiled half-heartedly and nodded. Placing one of Hermione's arms around his shoulders, he used one of his hands to hold hers there, and he wrapped his other arm around her waist. After he had her supported as best as he could, he started up the stairs with her. He had dragged her up all of two stairs before he realized that making her walk while she was unconscious was clearly impossible.  
  
"Bloody hell," he mumbled as he realized exactly what he was going to have to do. Without thinking twice about it, though, he bent down and placed his right arm behind her knees and, keeping his left arm around her waist, he swung her up and into his arms. She was surprisingly much lighter like this than she was when she was being dragged. Immediately, her head flung itself backwards lifelessly. Ron nudged his left arm upwards, causing her head to fling itself once again- only this time, it flung upwards and landed against Ron's shoulder. He passed for a second, looking down at the girl in his arms. She looked really... peaceful all snuggled against him asleep like that. He could feel her weight starting to grow, though, so he hurried up the stairs to the second floor bathroom where he kicked open the door and carried her inside.  
  
Ron bent down and tried his best to sit her down on the floor without waking her, but this was easier said than done. He more or less dropped her, and when she hit the floor, her eyes flew open and stared at him. "What are you doing?" she asked groggily.  
  
Ron pulled a washrag out of the cabinet over the sink and wet it with warm water. Wringing it out, he answered her question. "I'm trying to get you sober enough, so that my parents won't find out about this," he told her pointedly.  
  
At this, Hermione smiled sweetly at him. "That's so nice, Ron. You're really nice, you know that? When you want to be, I mean- sometimes you're a prat."  
  
Ron just walked to her and knelt beside of her. "That's nice," he said off- handedly. He held the rag out to her. "Here, hold this against your face."  
  
Hermione was still smiling, and in a voice much more high-pitched than she would normally use, she said, "Won't you do it for me?"  
  
Ron eyed her, his hands growing damp with the wet washrag. "Hermione, you can do it yourself."  
  
She closed her eyes and beamed at him larger than ever, showing off every single one of her newly perfect teeth. "Please? I'll be your best friend..."  
  
"You already are my best friend."  
  
Hermione burst into giggles. "I know! That's the funny part!"  
  
Ron couldn't help but laugh a bit at the whole silliness of the situation. Silliness was rather cute on Hermione... Wait. Hermione was not cute; she was his best friend. Silliness was rather unusual on Hermione. Yes, that was better.  
  
She kept laughing and asked him a question. "Hey, Ron, guess what!"  
  
He grinned at her, no longer allowing himself to be angry with the fact that she was drunk. It was too funny. "What?"  
  
"The last time we were in a bathroom together..." she broke off into giggles and had to find breath before she continued, "I turned into a cat!"  
  
Laughing at the memory, he nodded his agreement. "Yes, you certainly did..."  
  
"And guess what else!" she prompted, her dark amber eyes gleaming.  
  
He was humoring her now more than anything because he was quite sure he really could guess what else. "What's that?"  
  
"The last time we were in a bathroom together, you turned into Vincent Crabbe!" She obviously found this quite hilarious, as she erupted into even louder laughter than before.  
  
"True..." he decided to tease her a bit. "But I didn't look as stupid as you, though... Close, but not quite."  
  
Hermione found the fact that he was playing along to be hilarious, and she nearly doubled over from laughter. "We should hang out in the bathroom more often," she said matter-of-factly. "We always have fun!"  
  
Ron laughed, but quickly ceased his laughter when she stretched her arms and said, "In fact, I think we should stay here all night." Ron started to protest and tell her that they couldn't stay there all night, but she had sprawled herself against the floor with her head in his now Indian-style lap. She was on her back and looking up wide-eyed at Ron who was staring down at her cautiously. Flashing him a grin, she said, "I would tell you to lie down, too, but then I would lose my pillow."  
  
Ron managed a half-smile. He was not at all sure why he was in the habit of getting so insanely nervous around Hermione lately, but this latest scenario was proving to be no different.  
  
She reached up for his hand that was still holding the warm rag and brought it to her face. She held his hand to her face and closed her eyes saying, "Hmm... That feels nice."  
  
For some reason, Ron thought that it would feel much nicer if the piece of damp material weren't in the way of his actual hand on her skin. He had this really sudden wanting to caress her cheek; it was so flushed, and it looked so soft and inviting... Ron glanced up and was glad to see that the door was locked because he didn't want to even think of what it would be like if any of his siblings, or worse yet, his parents were to barge in on this scene. Or, God forbid, Harry. He then turned his attention back to Hermione whose eyes were now closed, though he knew she wasn't asleep. She was smiling ever-so-slightly, and her chest was rising and falling gently as she breathed; she was still holding his hand and the rag to her face.  
  
Ron was still looking at her other cheek and longing to touch it. He wondered briefly if she would possibly not mind if he were to reach up and put his fingers to it. He figured that since she was, after all, lying in his lap quite willingly that she wouldn't completely freak out if he were to touch her. Still, working up enough of his own nerve and convincing himself that he really should do it was a completely different thing. But that red cheek of hers just looked so warm and smooth that he really couldn't help himself.  
  
Slowly, half-hoping she wouldn't even notice, he raised his left hand which had been pressed against the floor beside him and raised it to that bothersome, yet wholly endearing, splash of crimson on her cheek. He ran his fingertips over the spot that was just as hot as he'd imagined and watched as she opened her eyes to look straight up into his. He was scared for a moment that she was going to tell him off, but when she spoke, her voice was soft and sweet.  
  
"That feels nice."  
  
Ron felt the breath catch in his throat. She'd really just said that? Wow. Ron swallowed, quite instantly finding that he couldn't speak.  
  
It didn't matter, though; Hermione kept talking. "I could fall asleep like this," she murmured softly. "When I was little, my mum used to play with my hair, and I'd always go straight down for a nap..." Her voice actually was trailing off rather sleepily.  
  
His eyes traveled to her hair at that point- her hair that was so straight and sleek and completely different from its natural state. It looked nice this way, but Ron had always liked her hair, even when it was frizzy and bushy. In fact, he'd always found her wild curls to be rather captivating.  
  
"Why did you change your hair?" He'd asked it before he'd even realized he'd been thinking it.  
  
"I hated it the other way," she answered clearly. "My head looked like a bush before."  
  
Ron snickered at the imagery but once again found himself speaking before he could think. "I liked it."  
  
Good God, had he really just said that out loud?  
  
Hermione smiled mischievously, though, and spoke to him with closed eyes. "What? You have a thing for girls whose heads look huge? Does it make you feel better about your figuratively big head?"  
  
Ron's hand stopped tracing lazy circles on her cheek, and he found himself staring down at her in disbelief. Even though she was more drunk than he had ever seen anyone in his entire life- Hagrid included- she was still managing to insult him. His first instinct was, of course, to shoot back at her with an equally as jibing remark, but for some reason, he couldn't quite get the first part of her remark out of his mind.  
  
"You have a thing for girls whose heads look huge?"  
  
A "thing?" He didn't have a "thing" for her. She was Hermione, for crying out loud! His friend- his best friend. Who the hell had a "thing" for their best friend? Well, certainly not him; that was for sure! Yes, his siblings had been teasing him incessantly about whatever feelings they thought he might hold for Hermione that went deeper than friendship, but he was the first to admit that his siblings weren't the brightest lot in the world- save Percy and Bill, of course, but they didn't count. And they weren't the only ones, either. He could vividly remember being taunted by Dean and Seamus for weeks after the now infamous Yule Ball fight- the fight when Hermione had flat out told him that if he ever wanted to ask her out, he needed to do it for proper reasons and not because she was his last resort. He'd wanted to kill Seamus after the Irish boy had sat behind Hermione in Potions one day and made kissing faces at him over her shoulder every time Snape chose to turn his back. But what did they know anyway? They were all stupid- the whole lot of them.  
  
He was about to say something, though he didn't know what, when Hermione suddenly sat straight up and turned to him with huge eyes. He looked at her curiously until she told him exactly what was wrong.  
  
"I'm going to be sick!"  
  
Ron made a quick movement to get out her way, so she could crawl toward the toilet faster than he would have thought on all fours. She had barely made it when she flung her head over the side of the bowl, and Ron was instantly met with loud gagging sounds and the noise of splashing water- the sound of vomiting. For a moment, Ron was certain that he was going to be sick as well, but the sight of Hermione throwing up so violently was actually quite pitying. He could hear her practically choking, and when he chanced another glance at her, he saw that tears were making their way down her perfectly flushed cheeks. He'd seen her do a lot of things, but he'd never seen her actually throw up, nor had she seen him, and he intended to keep it that way. He'd been embarrassed enough when Harry had caught him puking in the Forbidden Forest when he was twelve years old; he was not going to allow Hermione to witness a similar scene, so he forced himself not to grow sick right along with her. Instead, he insisted with his quickly sickening side that the only gentlemanly thing to do would be to try and help her. He tried not to ponder when he'd started thinking about being gentlemanly around Hermione.  
  
Moving so that he was behind her and didn't have to actually see the horrible mix of vomit and spit that was being ejected from her mouth, he placed one hand soothingly on her back and rubbed it gently. "It's okay," he prompted gently as his mother used to do with him when he was younger, "Just get it all out." She certainly appeared to be getting it all out, and Ron wondered how it was possible to throw up that much. He saw her long, straight hair falling around her face as she desperately tried to throw it backwards while still gripping the sides of the toilet. Having seen Ginny as a sick child many times, he instantly knew what to do. He reached with his free hand and pulled her hair away from her face and held it behind her while he continued to rub her back gently with the other. He kept this up, along with the words of sympathy and encouragement, for what seemed like hours before Hermione finally spat one last time at the toilet and leaned up a big, gasping for breath. She was still crying, and she looked so absolutely pitiful that Ron took it upon himself to reach around her flush the toilet. He then reached behind him for the recently discarded washrag and held it around for her; instead of taking it from him, though, she pressed her face into it while he was still holding it, and he instinctively wiped away the sweat that he could see glistening from the side of her face as she settled back between his legs and leaned against him. With his free hand, he cautiously reached up to wipe a tear away from her cheek. He let his hand linger just a bit too long before moving it sideways and allowing it to run down the length of her hair that was framing the left side of her face. Letting it rest on her shoulder, he slowly leaned around and peered at her. Her eyes were shut, and she was still breathing quite heavily.  
  
"Are you okay?" he whispered.  
  
She didn't answer him verbally, just nodded instead. Then she opened her eyes and turned to meet his gaze. Very quietly, she said, "Thank you."  
  
He forced a smile and shrugged. "Just remember that you owe me," he said teasingly. Truthfully, he was more than glad that Hermione probably wouldn't remember any of this the next day.  
  
She returned the smile, small as it was, and said, "See? This is why you're supposed to be eighteen to drink. This is why we're not supposed to do things illegally."  
  
Ron just rolled his eyes and said, "C'mon. You need to go to bed."  
  
She nodded and allowed him to help her up by lifting her from under her arms. Once they were both standing, she turned to him and said, "I need to brush my teeth."  
  
He laughed at this for some reason, though he didn't know why, and led her over to the sink where he opened a drawer and pulled out a lilac colored toothbrush. "This yours?"  
  
She nodded, and he turned the water on and opened a tube of toothpaste in order to squeeze some onto her brush. He stood behind her while she brushed her teeth for a very long time; finally, he said, "Aren't you done yet?"  
  
She looked up at him in the mirror and gave him an annoyed look. Spitting into the sink, she rinsed quickly and said, "You're supposed to brush for three full minutes."  
  
"So speaks the spawn of two dentists," Ron mumbled sarcastically, and Hermione turned to him and playfully punched him on the arm.  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
Ron laughed and led her out of the bathroom toward the room she was sleeping in. At that moment, he heard feet pounding up the stairs behind them, and he spun around to see Ginny coming toward them.  
  
"Is she okay?" the redheaded girl asked cautiously.  
  
Ron nodded. "Yeah, but she needs to change clothes and go to bed."  
  
Ginny took Hermione's hand and turned to her brother. "I'll take care of her."  
  
Ron nodded again. "Okay. If she needs anything, come get me, okay?"  
  
"I'm right here," Hermione reminded them impatiently.  
  
Ron sighed, "Okay, if you need anything, Hermione, come get me, okay?"  
  
She smiled, satisfied, and gave a quick nod. "Okay."  
  
He smiled at her for just a brief moment and then said, "See you in the morning then. Goodnight."  
  
Both girls bid him goodnight, and he turned away from them and headed back to the room he was sharing with Harry. For some strange reason, he felt strangely pleased with the night's events.  
  
  
  
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Wow! That was so much fun to write! I know it was a bit long... Okay a bit is an understatement, but I was having such a blast writing it that I just couldn't cut it short! I'd love to hear your comments! I know that the POV switched a little in this part, and it hasn't done that before. But this story's romantic focus is Ron/Hermione, so it will be necessary to do some parts without Harry who has, up until now, served as the sort of narrator.  
  
Thank you SOOOO much for your wonderful reviews on the last chapter! They're great, and they mean so much!!!!  
  
Please leave me feedback for this part- if you've made it all the way through this part, then that should be easy :)  
  
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	6. Complicated

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A/N: Thanks so much for all the feedback on the last chapter! I loved reading everyone's comments on drunk Hermione (  
  
Disclaimer: They all belong to J.K. Rowling, and sadly enough, I am not a rich British author… More like a poor American college student…  
  
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The week at the coast went by more quickly than anyone could have guessed, and before they knew it, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting in his room back at the Burrow working on their homework (at Hermione's insistence, of course). Harry kept glancing up inconspicuously and catching Ron staring at Hermione when he was sure she wasn't looking. Harry rolled his eyes and thought about how awkward things had become between the two of them. Luckily for her, Hermione had woken up the day after her little escapade at the nightclub without too much sickness and without any recollection of the previous night's events. She knew, of course, that she had been drunk, but she said didn't remember all the way too close for comfort situations she'd placed Ron in. Harry wished in a way that she did, though; at least then they wouldn't be skirting around each other so formally. The way they were acting toward each other was very reminiscent of the way they had behaved the day after the Yule Ball last year. Cordial but way too formal.  
  
Harry was sure he preferred them arguing.  
  
"I give up!" Ron suddenly exclaimed, throwing his quill down on the bed in front of him. He was lying on his stomach on his bed, Harry was sitting on the other bed, leaning over his work while sitting cross-legged, ad Hermione was sitting between the beds, leaning against the small night table that separated them with her book open in her lap.  
  
Harry and Hermione both looked up at him curiously. "What's the matter?" Hermione asked, scooting herself onto her knees and straining to see his work.  
  
"This bloody book makes no sense!" Ron seemed more than exasperated with the Potions essay they were supposed to be working on.  
  
"Don't swear," Hermione said before scooting closer, so she could lean over his book and see what had him so confused. "What don't you understand?"  
  
"The whole bloody lot!" He spat the word 'bloody' at her viciously, as though daring her to scold him.  
  
She looked at him sharply, but kept her mouth closed about the swearing. "If you had paid attention at all during class, you might not be so confused," she said haughtily.  
  
Harry almost smiled right out at the sudden turnabout in his best friends' relationship. It was looking as though things were slowly getting back to normal.  
  
"Excuse me," Ron said defensively, "for not be such a bloody know-it-all like you." It seemed to be his goal to use the word 'bloody' in every single sentence, now, Harry was sure just to annoy Hermione.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Funny how you can call me names when you're the one who can't even finish an assignment."  
  
Ron just narrowed his eyes and shook his head in disbelief. "How observant of you," he said sarcastically. "I think I made that quite clear from the very first bloody sentence!"  
  
"Well, if you're expecting my help, you can think again!" she said heatedly. "I don't help annoying imbeciles!"  
  
Ron laughed sarcastically. "I don't think I asked for your bloody help, now did I?"  
  
Hermione's face turned bright red, and she raised her voice to say, "Would you just shut your bloody mouth?!" Rolling her eyes, she added, "Is that what you've been waiting for?" she asked hotly.  
  
Harry caught himself before he laughed, but Ron was not quite so good. He let out a huge laugh and said in between breaths, "It was actually quite amusing."  
  
This caused Hermione to draw in a sharp breath and roll her eyes. "You are insufferable!"  
  
Ron smirked at her, "So you've said before."  
  
"Ugh!" Hermione swiftly moved back to her own work, shooting death glares every few seconds at Ron who was still smirking at her. Finally, she looked up and said, "I can't wait to see the look on Snape's face when you have nothing to turn in."  
  
Harry and Ron both knew that showing up to Snape's class unprepared was about as stupid as tickling a blast-ended skrewt. Harry didn't say anything, though, but Ron couldn't bare to allow Hermione the satisfaction of having the last word.  
  
"I'll just steal yours when you aren't looking and copy it." He said this very nonchalantly, and Harry immediately knew that Hermione was about to explode.  
  
"If you EVER copy my work without my permission, I'll go straight to Professor McGonagall and tell her you've been cheating! And don't think I won't!" Her brown eyes were flashing dangerously, but Ron just shrugged his shoulders.  
  
"I know you will. You've sold Harry out to her before; I'm quite sure you'd do it to me!"  
  
Harry was sure that Hermione was about to protest this, as they all knew he was referring to the Firebolt incident in third year, but Ron seemed to think of something else before she could even open her mouth.  
  
"Speaking of selling people out, Hermione… Where's your Prefect badge? Haven't you gotten it yet?" He said all of this quite scathingly as though being named Prefect was the biggest offense in the world. "God knows they'll be sending it soon, if they haven't already. Then you can turn us in all the time and have a perfectly good excuse! Hell! You can even take points off of Gryffindor every time I swear!"  
  
Hermione turned very pink at this, and Harry noted with surprise that he hadn't even considered the position of Prefect being given to any of them, though Hermione was a very obvious choice. She looked down quickly and then back up at Ron, a look of distaste on her face. "If you must know, Ron, they're not allowing me to be a Prefect."  
  
"What?!" Ron's mouth actually fell open. "You have got to be shitting me!" He didn't pause long enough to allow Hermione's sound of shock. "They're not letting you, the biggest perfectionist Hogwarts has seen since Percy, to be a Prefect?!"  
  
Harry was quite surprised, as well. "What are you talking about, Hermione?"  
  
Hermione, who was glaring at Ron, obviously over the Percy comment, turned her attention back to the ground and answered him. "Professor McGonagall wrote me a letter at the start of the holiday and told me that she and Professor Dumbledore had decided it would be best if I didn't hold the position." She spoke rather quietly, and Harry couldn't quite tell which emotion her voice was laced with.  
  
"But why?!" Ron asked loudly. "Have they fallen off their rockers?! You are the epitome of Prefect material!"  
  
Hermione looked up to shoot the redhead a look of disgust. "They don't want me to be one because they think it'll distract me from keeping myself out of danger." She finished her explanation more loudly. "And they said that the three of us have to be more alert than anyone about the things going around us, and they didn't think I should have to deal with the distractions."  
  
Harry suddenly felt very bad. If it wasn't for him, Hermione would be a Prefect- something she'd been working toward for four whole years. Now, because of him, she was being passed over. "Hermione," he said uncertainly, "look, I'm really sorry…"  
  
Hermione just shook her head and waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it."  
  
Ron, who was looking a tiny bit sorry for teasing her, tried to smooth things over. "So, if you didn't get it, then who's the Gryffindor Prefect?"  
  
"Dean," Hermione sighed.  
  
"Dean Thomas?" Ron asked, as though there was another fifth year Gryffindor named Dean. "You mean, Harry and I weren't even second or third on the list?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes, and Harry laughed as Ron said, "Hermione was first choice… Dean was second… I think they're discriminating against us because we're not Muggle-born, Harry."  
  
"Oh, honestly," Hermione said, but Harry saw the slight trace of a smile playing on her lips.  
  
"Oh, well," Ron sighed dramatically. "I guess I can live with it being Dean… At least they didn't give it to Parvati or Lavender." He shuddered for effect. "Can you imagine?" Putting on a high-pitched impression of the gigglers, Ron held his head up in the air and said, "Ten points from Hufflepuff because Hannah Abbot's hairstyle is just all wrong for her!"  
  
Harry and Hermione both burst out laughing at his scarily accurate impression of Hermione's roommates. It was quite a scary thought to think of them being Prefects. But the thought of Harry and Ron's other roommates was just about almost as frightening. Seamus Finnigan was way too caught up in anything female to pay attention to any of the duties that a Prefect was expected to oversee, and Neville Longbottom… He could barely make it through the day with absolutely no responsibilities at all except for getting himself to class. If he was expected to do anything extra, it might very well be the end of him. Yes, Dean was definitely the only one of the remaining five fifth year Gryffindors who could be trusted.  
  
After the laughter had subsided, Hermione smiled weakly at Ron and said, "Do you want me to help you with your essay?"  
  
Ron scowled a bit, as though he didn't want to let her have the joy of knowing he needed her assistance, but he wasn't stupid. He knew he wouldn't be able to get anything done without it, so he finally sighed and nodded. "Please," he muttered extremely quietly.  
  
Harry watched as Ron sat up to make room for Hermione beside him. She climbed onto the bed and reached for his work, so she could study it and offer her help. He realized that Ron was paying no more attention to the book than he was to Harry; Ron's gaze was fixed on Hermione's profile as she leaned over the book and pointed out all of the things he needed to read to write his essay. His gaze was so transfixed that he gave a small cry of surprise when Hermione suddenly looked up and said, "What are you doing?"  
  
"Huh?" Ron's face took on a rather panicked expression. "Uh… I'm just… confused; that's all."  
  
Hermione sighed and shook her head disapprovingly. "You really should pay attention when the professors explain, Ron. You do know we have the O.W.L.s this year, don't you?"  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. He started to point out the obvious, when Ron beat him to it.  
  
"Jesus, Hermione," he said, exasperated. "It's August! Please, don't start badgering us about those stupid exams until at least Christmas!"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes, quite annoyed. "Someone needs to badger you. You certainly won't study on your own."  
  
Harry sighed. "We have months still."  
  
"I'm telling you, you're both going to be extremely sorry when you go to take the exams, and you aren't prepared." She said all of this as though they were her children instead of her best friends.  
  
*******************************************************  
  
"Checkmate!" Ron smiled proudly over the chessboard at Harry. "You do realize you're never going to beat me, right?"  
  
Harry sighed knowingly. He knew this all to well. "Yeah… Oh, well. I can dream, right?"  
  
"Hey!" Fred came tripping out of the house with George close behind him. Harry and Ron looked up curiously as they walked over and joined them at the table. Both twins looked down to observe the board and shook their heads disappointingly. "Beat the shit out of you again, did he, Harry?"  
  
Harry nodded and shrugged. "So, what else is new?"  
  
"Well," George said placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, "my twin and I were just about to play some Quidditch, but we could really use a seeker," he grinned at Harry, "and a keeper," he grinned at Ron. "So, what do you say?"  
  
"Chasers?" Ron asked absently.  
  
At this, George smiled evilly. "Well… We figure we can rope Ginny into it, but… We were hoping that maybe you guys might talk Hermione into it…"  
  
Ron and Harry both laughed loudly. Ron shook his head. "Are you crazy? She won't play Quidditch! She'll barely even get on a broom at all!"  
  
Fred placed both of his hands on Ron's shoulders and looked at him mischievously. "But have you asked her, Ron? I'm tempted to think she might make an exception to her no brooms rule if you asked her…"  
  
The tips of Ron's ears turned a bit brighter, and he shrugged his older brother away. "She won't. Trust me."  
  
"Harry?" Fred looked across the board hopefully.  
  
Harry just shook his head. "She won't play," he said certainly.  
  
Both twins looked put-out by this, but George still pressed on. "I can't believe that neither of you have the power of persuasion. You should both be ashamed to call yourself Weasley men," he nodded in Harry's direction, "Or almost-Weasley men. Whatever."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "Look, Hermione hates flying. She won't play."  
  
"But how do you know if you haven't asked?" Fred said, grinning. "You might be surprised, Ron; Miss Granger just might give into you…"  
  
"The reason I know," Ron said, obviously ignoring his brothers' latter comment, "is because I know HER. Flying scares her."  
  
"Why don't you offer to give her a ride on your broomstick?" George could barely get the horrible pun out before both he and his twin were nearly guffawing with hysterics.  
  
Harry could have found this joke quite hilarious if it had been directed at anyone else except for Ron and about anyone else except for Hermione. But as it was, indeed, in reference to his two best friends, Harry felt himself turning red, though he really didn't know why. He chanced a glimpse at Ron and saw that no matter how hot his own face was feeling, it must have been like ice compared to Ron's, as his friend's was now the deepest of crimsons.  
  
Harry was surprised to see, though, that Ron didn't throw a punch at either of his older brothers. Instead he stood up and rolled his eyes at them. "Oh, how witty," he said snidely, in the same manner Hermione might have. "And you know what? You'll just have to do without a keeper." With that, he turned and walked back up the grass hill back to the house.  
  
Harry and the twins watched his retreating back for a moment before the twins burst into laughter yet again. Fred turned to Harry, grinning, and said, "How the hell are you dealing with the two of them?"  
  
Harry, not wishing to discuss the subject, shrugged his shoulders quickly and said, "I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
The twins eyed him suspiciously for a second before glancing at each other and saying, "Right…" in disbelieving, unison voices.  
  
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Ron stomped up the stairs to his room angrily. He heard his mum shout at him to walk normally from below, but he pretended not to have heard her. When he passed Ginny's room, he noticed the door open just a bit, and he peeked in the crack. Ginny was lying on her bed fast asleep, a quill still clasped in her hand as her head lay on the edge of a piece of parchment. Ron, against his own will, opened the door a bit further to view the rest of the room. But, to his surprise, Hermione's bed was empty, and there was no sign of her anywhere. He wondered where she was, but he didn't stick around to ponder this. Instead, he closed the door softly and continued up the stairs to the top floor of the house where his bedroom stood.  
  
As soon as he'd thrown open the door to his room, he was met with a small shriek. He jumped at the noise and spun his head in the direction of the voice. Hermione was sitting on his bed reading, and she looked positively startled to death by the sudden interruption. Her eyes widened and then quickly went back to normal.  
  
"Oh, sorry," she said quickly, her cheeks a soft shade of pink. "Ginny was asleep, and I didn't want to disturb her, so I came up here." She smiled slightly and said, "But I can go outside."  
  
Ron, still rather shocked to have found her in his room, shook his head uneasily. "No, it's okay." He was suddenly very aware of the strange awkwardness that was once again taking over their situation.  
  
She obviously noticed it as well because she was silent for a moment before asking a random question. "Where's Harry?"  
  
Ron scowled slightly at the remembrance of what had just transpired. "Playing Quidditch with Fred and George."  
  
"Oh?" Hermione gave him a puzzled look. "Why aren't you playing?"  
  
He shrugged in his most careless manner and said, "I'm not in the mood for Quidditch."  
  
Hermione laughed. "Do you have a fever, Ron? Maybe I should get your mum…"  
  
He rolled his eyes at her before crossing the room to settle onto Harry's bed. "Oh, shut up."  
  
She beamed at him, and he found himself noticing her perfect teeth yet again. Absently, he said, "Your teeth are nice." As soon as he'd said it, he realized how utterly stupid it sounded, much to his horrification.  
  
Hermione's beam turned to a look of puzzlement before she broke out into another grin and said, "Thanks…"  
  
Ron wanted to kick himself for saying something so stupid, so he said, "Well, you know, I'm still not used to them."  
  
She laughed. "Well, get used to them because I'm certainly never switching them back."  
  
"Did your parents get mad?" he asked, remembering how she'd said they didn't think that dentistry and magic should be mixed.  
  
She wrinkled her a nose slightly. "Yeah, a bit. But once they realized they obviously couldn't do the counter-spell and change them back, they got over it."  
  
He gave her a small smile and then voiced another observation. "You look a lot different this summer than you did last summer." He was a tiny bit embarrassed that he had said this out because he had spoken once again without thinking, but he figured that it was an obvious observation.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes slightly and said, "Yeah, the hair and the teeth… But I'm certainly not any taller. I think I'm going to be short forever," she added with a sigh.  
  
She might have been the same height, but her body was changing nonetheless. Ron felt himself blush at this thought and made very sure not to voice it unconsciously. But it was true. She was changing, and although her changes weren't as drastic as some of the other girls' had been over the past couple of years, it was still noticeable. Ron didn't want to think about her like that, but he honestly found that he couldn't help it. He'd been thinking like that a lot lately, and it was driving him crazy.  
  
Getting back to the subject at hand, he swallowed and forced a grin onto his face. "You don't need to get any taller," he told her matter-of- factly.  
  
She returned the grin. "Oh, no? And why not?"  
  
"Because," he said airily, "if you were much taller, I wouldn't be able to pick on you."  
  
She laughed. "I could grow three feet, and you would still pick on me, Ron."  
  
"True…"  
  
"Remember when Harry was the shortest? Remember when I was taller than him?" she asked, smiling. "I really miss those days."  
  
Ron laughed. "Yeah, but I was still taller than you," he pointed out.  
  
"Not by that much!" she protested, thinking back on their first year at Hogwarts when, at eleven years old, the three of them were exactly two inches apart from the next in height- with her in the middle. Harry had bypassed her during their second year, though, and since then she'd undoubtedly been the shortest of the three.  
  
"Yeah," he agreed. "We were perfectly stair-stepped back then, weren't we?"  
  
"Regular Von Trapps," she said grinning.  
  
Von Trapps? Ron gave her a confused look. "Huh?"  
  
Hermione laughed. "Muggle thing," she said dismissively.  
  
Ron accepted this as a perfect explanation. "Anyway, I like you being short like that. It's fun to watch you crane your neck so much every time you're yelling at me furiously." He grinned at her teasingly, and she rolled her eyes.  
  
"Oh, shut up," she said in mock-irritation.  
  
Ron laughed, but a sharp pain suddenly shot through his neck out of nowhere. "Ow!" he cried, reaching up to rub the spot that seemed to be now searing with pain.  
  
Hermione raised her eyebrows in his direction. "What's wrong?"  
  
"I don't… Ow!" Another pain shot through him as he tried his best to rub away the other one.  
  
"What did you do?" Hermione was looking at him curiously.  
  
"Nothing!" he insisted, wincing in pain. "It just started hurting!"  
  
Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes slightly as she got off of his bed and crossed the room. "You big baby."  
  
Ron was about to protest her remark… He was about to until she pushed his hands out of the way and replaced them with her own, somehow putting her thumb on the exact point that the pain was stemming from. The second she placed her hands on his bare neck, though, he felt himself tense completely, and he noted that her hands felt like fire on his skin. Damnit. Why was this happening to him? He had realized awhile ago that he couldn't touch her (or vice versa) without feeling himself blush and tense up. The only time lately that it hadn't been an issue had been when she was drunk, and he realized that this was probably because Hermione wasn't exactly conscious to everything that was happening. But it was driving him mad! He should be able to touch her without getting nervous! She was his best friend!  
  
"Is this where it hurts?" she asked, pressing her thumb into his neck and applying pressure to exactly the right spot.  
  
Her question had jerked him out of his reverie, but he noticed that it hadn't caused him to feel any more at ease. "Uh, yeah." He heard his voice crack slightly at the answer, causing the word 'yeah' to turn into two syllables, and he cringed.  
  
Things were getting entirely too complicated, and he wasn't sure how he was expected to deal with all of this… this… boy/girl stuff. Why did Hermione suddenly have to turn into such a girl anyway? He was perfectly happy before when he had been able to treat her exactly the way he treated Harry. But Harry and Hermione were completely different now, and Ron realized this with a sense of uneasiness. Speaking of Harry, Ron wondered if he, too, was suddenly finding things with Hermione to be a bit uncomfortable. Ron thought briefly about asking him, but quickly thought better of it because, one, he didn't want Harry to get any crazy ideas and, two, he realized he didn't want Harry to be dealing with the same sort of awkwardness because that might mean that Harry… No, Ron didn't even want to think about it.  
  
"Does this feel better?" Hermione gently rubbed his neck, somehow putting pressure in all the right spots. Her voice sounded somehow strained, but Ron hardly noticed.  
  
He was too caught up in the way his insides seemed to be lighting with furious heat as they squirmed around much to his dislike. How was this happening? "Yeah," he answered absently, though thoroughly pleased with the fact that his voice didn't break at this response. He was suddenly quite aware of the fact that his breathing didn't seem quite normal; he struggled inwardly with himself to get this under control.  
  
Ron felt the bed shift slightly under him, and he was suddenly aware that she had climbed onto her knees behind him instead of standing as she had been previously. When he noticed that she was so close that he could feel her body pressed against his back, his eyes closed, and a stream of unconscious thoughts shot through his mind.  
  
Thoughts he was positive he should definitely not be having.  
  
His eyes flew open as he realized at this revelation, and he moved quite suddenly, causing her to lean back and rest on the back of her feet. "What's wrong?" she asked, moving so that she could look at him.  
  
He would have given all the gold in Gringotts if she hadn't been able to see how red his face had undoubtedly turned.  
  
"Uh… uh… I just remembered that…that I have to tell… Harry something!" Ron spoke all of this in a very, very uneven voice. He stood up and hurried toward the door in what he prayed was a quick enough motion for her not to notice exactly what it had been that had made standing such an uncomfortable movement in the first place. His heart was pounding quite deafeningly as he slipped through the door and shut it behind him.  
  
Things were definitely getting much too complicated…  
  
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So? I love feedback!! 


	7. Back to Hogwarts

A/N: Sorry about this change, you guys. But something happened in one of the reviews (It was done in a strange font), and every time I tried to open the reviews for this story, it would freeze my computer for some reason. So, anyway, I'm having to switch the whole story over to another thing. If you want to read old reviews, you can still find them, though I don't know if you'll be able to open it or not because I can't.  
  
Thanks for all the feedback from the last story! I promise I will do some Hermione POV soon! Thanks guys!!!  
  
  
  
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"Ron! Harry! Are you ready yet?"  
  
Mrs. Weasley's voice bounded up the stairs, waking two sleeping fifteen year olds abruptly. The two aforementioned boys both shot up at once and looked at each other wide-eyed from across the room, shocked at the loud voice that had woken them so quickly.  
  
"What time is it?" Ron asked, glancing around for his watch.  
  
Harry checked his own and immediately jumped out of bed. "Eight forty- five! We have to leave in fifteen minutes!"  
  
It was September 1st. The Hogwarts Express would be leaving King's Cross in London at exactly 11:00, and Ron and Harry had yet to even get dressed. Luckily, both of them had showered before they'd gone to bed and didn't have to take time for that this morning. After Ron cursed rather loudly at their late lie-in, they hurried around the room getting dressed and making sure everything they would need was packed away in their trunks. Mrs. Weasley had taken them all to Diagon Alley the week before, and they'd bought their new books and supplies. The twins had also bought Ron the new dress robes Harry had asked them to; so, instead of ruffled maroon ones, Ron now had a brand new set of dark gray dress robes packed into his trunk. Quickly, they dragged their trunks and Hedwig and Pigwidgeon down the stairs and set them by the door next to four other trunks and a rather large cage containing one rather large orange cat. Ron made sure to set Pig as far away from Crookshanks as possible, as it seemed that Pig and Crookshanks got along about as well as Scabbers and Crookshanks had. And finally, at 8:57, Ron and Harry burst into the kitchen, both a little short on breath.  
  
Hermione and Ginny were sitting across the table from Fred and George, and all four of them looked rather full and wide-awake, the exact opposite of the way Ron and Harry felt. Mrs. Weasley tutted softly at them and thrust four pieces of toast at each of them as she said, "This is all you have time for. You'll have to take it in the car with you because if we don't leave now, you'll all miss the train. Now, hurry up, all of you."  
  
Ron and Harry looked pitifully at the empty plates on the table that still showed the remnants of sausage, bacon, gravy, and fried potatoes. Still, thinking that the toast was better than no breakfast at all, they followed the others out to the car which Mr. Weasley had magically packed already. They all told him bye because he wasn't going to be able to join them on the trip due to work.  
  
For once, no one had forgotten anything, so the trip to London went uninterrupted. Once again, the six teenagers had piled into the back of the car, though they sat in a different order this time- Fred by the window, then George, Ron, Ginny, Harry, and finally Hermione. On the trip, Harry reflected on everything that had happened that summer. It had been fun- the most fun summer he'd had in his life, actually. And now it was over. They were all headed back to Hogwarts, but, for once, Harry wasn't looking forward to his return to school. He'd spent a lot of time during the summer doing his best to forget everything that had happened at the end of his fourth year and pretending that everything was as normal as it had been a year ago. He knew, though, that upon his return to school, he was going to be forced to face everything and everyone.  
  
He wondered how all of his schoolmates were going to treat him.  
  
Just because the Weasleys and Hermione were able to treat him normally didn't mean that everyone else would. He was sure that those who didn't believe that Voldemort had returned would still blame him for Cedric's death, and he was pretty sure that those who had accepted the fact that Voldemort was back would treat him as though he were a glass figurine in danger of breaking at any given moment.  
  
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Before long, Harry found himself pushing his trunk toward Platform 9 ¾. He watched as one by one, the Weasleys went through he barrier, and he followed them with Hermione. Staring at the Hogwarts Express was comforting in one way, at least. It gave him a sense of security; he knew that Dumbledore would be around, and at least that gave him some sort of safe feeling.  
  
"Owl me when you get there," Mrs. Weasley said after she'd joined the teenagers on the platform.  
  
"We know, Mum," Fred said, a slight trace of annoyance in his voice.  
  
Mrs. Weasley smiled fondly at the circle of children she'd brought to King's Cross with her. "Okay. Well, you better hurry and board. We've just barely made it."  
  
She kissed the twins first and then Ginny, sending them to the train with "Good luck" and "Be good." She then turned to the remaining three, and her smile faded just a bit.  
  
"You three, be careful," she told them seriously. There was worry clearly showing in her eyes.  
  
"We will, Mum," Ron said, agitated. "We're not…"  
  
"I'm serious," she cut him off sharply. "Don't go looking for trouble."  
  
"We don't have to," Hermione mumbled, a bit of bitterness evident in her voice. Harry felt immediately guilty.  
  
Mrs. Weasley looked briefly at each of them in turn. "You just have to promise me that if anything is wrong, if you suspect anything at all or if you feel anything strange, you have to promise me that you'll go straight to Dumbledore and tell him." Her gaze finally rested on Harry. "Promise me."  
  
Harry nodded solemnly, though he didn't speak.  
  
Mrs. Weasley sighed softly and turned her look to Hermione and Ron. "And you two?"  
  
They both nodded, too, and Ron mumbled what Harry could barely make out to be, "Okay."  
  
The train whistle sounded at that moment, signaling the last warning before it took off.  
  
"Right, then," Mrs. Weasley said uneasily. She then gave them what was a very recognizable forced smile and kissed them all on the cheeks. "Have a good term."  
  
"Thank you for everything, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione smiled at the older witch.  
  
"Yeah, thanks," Harry added with his own forced smile.  
  
She shook her head. "Oh, you're welcome."  
  
With a final smile, Harry and Hermione turned and boarded the train. Ron started to follow them, but Mrs. Weasley caught his sleeve; he turned to look at her questioningly.  
  
"Watch out for Harry," she said quickly.  
  
Ron saw the worry in his mother's eyes, and he nodded at her uneasily. He didn't like the look on her face. "I will, Mum."  
  
The worried look didn't fade at all. "And if you think he's hiding something or… anything, please tell Professor Dumbledore."  
  
Ron was getting a bit worried, and he was upset at this because he'd been forcing himself to think that things were going to be perfectly normal. Very quietly, he said, "I will…"  
  
"And watch out for Hermione, too," she added hastily. "She's not exactly in the safest of situations with her parents, you know."  
  
Ron did know. But he didn't like to think about it. "Okay, Mum." He was speaking even softer by now.  
  
"And you be careful," she said finally. "Please be careful." She was looking at him imploringly.  
  
He just nodded at this, not sure what else to say.  
  
His mother finally wrapped her arms around him hurriedly as the whistle sounded a final time. "I love you," she whispered quickly.  
  
Ron pulled back and gave him mum one final look before finally managing to mumble, "I love you, too… I have to go…"  
  
She nodded. "Bye, Ron."  
  
"Bye." He barely whispered the answer before turning and boarding the train just in time, feeling it move as soon as he'd shut the door behind him. He glanced up and down the aisle. He recognized many of his schoolmates as they gathered in the aisle and hung out of compartments, chatting loudly with each other and catching up on summer events. He spotted Dean and Seamus and walked the few feet to join them.  
  
"Hey!" Dean said, grinning. "What's up?"  
  
Ron smiled back at him. "Nothing much. Did you guys have a good summer?"  
  
They both nodded. "Yeah, did you?"  
  
Ron returned the nod. "Yeah, it was pretty good. Hey, have you guys seen…"  
  
"Second compartment from the end," Seamus said, cutting him off before he could even tell them who he was looking for.  
  
Ron laughed. "How did you know I wasn't talking about my brothers or something?"  
  
Seamus rolled his eyes. "Lucky guess."  
  
Ron laughed again and was about to turn in the direction Seamus had pointed him, when he felt a hand grab his arm. He turned around, and Dean was staring at him wide-eyed.  
  
"Hey!" Dean's eyes flashed. "What happened to Hermione over the summer?!"  
  
Ron wrinkled his forehead. "What do you mean? Nothing happened to her."  
  
"She's hot!" Dean said, grinning.  
  
Ron felt something strange in the pit of his stomach, and for some unknown reason had the urge to throw a punch right at Dean's nose. He withheld the urge, though, and just gave him the best "I didn't notice" look he could manage. "She just straightened her hair; that's all."  
  
Seamus laughed at this. "She did a little more than straighten her hair…"  
  
Ron had to fight the urge to punch Seamus, as well. Instead, he wrinkled his nose and said, "I really don't want to hear it, Finnigan," in the best "You're sickening me" voice he could manage.  
  
Seamus just smirked and sent him a knowing look. "Sure," he said suspiciously. "I saw her picture in Quidditch Center. Is she really going out with Viktor Krum?" He raised his eyebrows.  
  
Ron mentally cringed at the name. "How the hell should I know?" he asked, a little too bitterly.  
  
Seamus and Dean both rolled their eyes. "Don't even pretend like you haven't asked her," Dean said accusingly.  
  
"I haven't," Ron answered honestly. He hadn't even mentioned Viktor Krum since the day Hermione had arrived at his house, and whenever the large gray owl appeared bearing a letter for her, he'd chosen to ignore it. "Whatever she does is her business," he answered shortly. "I don't care what she does," he added for effectiveness.  
  
The other two boys were silent for only a moment before Dean rolled his eyes once more and said, "Okay, right," with a tone that made Ron positive that neither of them had believed his story for even a second.  
  
He rolled his own eyes and said, "Look, I'll see you guys later, okay?"  
  
They nodded, both wearing identical smirks. Ron chose to ignore them, and he turned and made his way down the aisle to the second compartment from the end. He entered it and shut the door behind him. Harry and Hermione both looked up at him curiously when he walked in.  
  
"Where've you been?" Harry asked as Ron took a seat beside him and across from Hermione.  
  
Ron shrugged dismissively. "I ran into Dean and Seamus."  
  
"Oh, we did, too," Hermione said, smiling.  
  
"I know you did," Ron said, memories of the urge to hit his friends returning to his mind.  
  
"How did you know?" Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.  
  
Ron, not about to launch into the reasons he knew, simply said, "They told me where you guys were."  
  
"Oh. Hey, did you see Lavender? She cut all of her hair off!" Hermione's eyes were wide as though this was huge news.  
  
Ron wasn't sure why Hermione seemed so excited by this, but he really couldn't picture Lavender without her long blonde hair. "Really? Does it look good?"  
  
Ron understood immediately why Hermione was so excited. Breaking into a fit of giggles, she shook her head. "No! It looks awful!"  
  
Ron had to bite back his own laughter at Hermione's giddiness. He knew that she felt some sort of resentment towards Lavender and Parvati even though she would never verbally admit to it. He smiled at her. "Hey! Where are Fred and George and Ginny?"  
  
Harry rolled his eyes slightly. "Fred and George dragged Ginny up the train to show her off to Lee Jordan. Apparently, she's going to make the greatest fourth addition to their little mischief team imaginable."  
  
Ron returned the eye roll. "I can't wait to see what Mum does when she starts getting owls about Ginny like she always does about Fred and George. She'll probably blow completely."  
  
"I can't believe they didn't turn us into toads or something," Hermione said, sitting up and shaking her head. "I definitely never expected to make it out of your house unharmed, Ron."  
  
Ron laughed. "Yeah, but I threatened to tell Mum all about their secret stash if they messed with either of you."  
  
Hermione and Harry broke into identical grins. "Thanks for that," Harry said, still grinning.  
  
At that moment, the compartment door slid open, and the most unwelcome of faces greeted them.  
  
"Well, if it's not Hogwarts' Terrific Trio." A drawling, sarcastic voice made all three friends look up and groan. Draco Malfoy was standing in the doorway, a superior smirk upon his lips and flanked, as always, by his cronies Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
"Go away, Malfoy," Ron said immediately, a tone of complete hatred lacing his voice.  
  
Malfoy turned to shoot him the smirk before saying, "I'd rather not, Weasley." He then turned his attention to Hermione who was glaring at the three Slytherins. "Wow, Granger," he said loudly. "Did Krum's parents force you to get that makeover? I'm sure they're a lot more particular about who their son hangs out with than the Weasleys are."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut it," she said calmly. "No one's going to pay any attention to you."  
  
This made the blonde-haired Slytherin wouldn't shut anything, though, least of all his mouth. "I must say that it's a definite improvement. Not looking too bad on the outside, Granger… Now, if there was just something that could fix your blood, you'd be a pretty good catch. I might even make a go for you." He was smirking at her in a way that made Hermione want to throw up.  
  
"Just go away, Malfoy," Harry said, correctly predicting that Ron was extremely close to punching Malfoy's lights out.  
  
Malfoy then, of course, turned his attention to Harry. "And what about you, Potter? How was your summer?" His eyes were glinting evilly. "Uneventful, I hope. Certainly hope that you didn't have too many nightmares about the Dark Lord and such." His voice was so cocky and sarcastic, Harry wanted to hit him, as well.  
  
"Sod off," Ron said, standing to face the Slytherin. Though he wasn't as big as Crabbe or Goyle, he was definitely bigger than Malfoy, and he hoped that his size would be somewhat intimidating.  
  
Malfoy looked up at Ron and grinned. "Please, Weasley." He then turned back to Harry and continued his little taunt. "My father told me that you've got quite the price on your neck, Potter. If you ever need a secret keeper, make sure you don't choose Weasley- he'd probably turn you in for the money. Might buy his family a living complex that could actually be considered a house."  
  
"Go to hell," Ron muttered angrily, his ears tingeing pink.  
  
"And even without the money," Malfoy continued, completely ignoring Ron, "I'd still be careful of choosing him. Don't forget your poor parents' fate."  
  
"Malfoy, get out," Hermione said, leaping up angrily.  
  
She, too, was ignored. "Your father chose his faithful sidekick, and look where it got him. And I daresay Weasley is even more pathetic than old Sirius Black was… Wow," his blue eyes were glinting maliciously. "Wouldn't it be something if 'Famous Harry Potter' went the same way as his dear old dad… You know, Potter, history has a way of repeating itself."  
  
Crabbe and Goyle were snickering stupidly, and Harry felt his blood boiling. He didn't like to hear anyone talk ill of his parents, Sirius, or his friends. Malfoy was managing to do all three at one time.  
  
"Get out of here before I make you sorry," he warned, his hand reaching into the pocket of his Muggle jacket for his wand as he leapt to his feet.  
  
Malfoy took a step back, though his smirk didn't disappear. "I'm just trying to help you, Potter. Looking out for your best interest and all…"  
  
"Well, why don't you go look in the hall?" Hermione spat and shoved the door closed in the three Slytherins' faces. She turned back to Harry and Ron. "Just ignore him," she told them quickly.  
  
Harry was so angry, he wanted to go after Malfoy and his tagalongs and hex them anyway. His face was extremely red with pent up anger, and he seemed to be fuming. Ron, though, was looking rather odd. His face was completely solemn, and he was staring at the door blankly.  
  
"He's such a bastard," Harry muttered finally, sitting back down.  
  
Hermione scowled. "We've just got to ignore him," she asserted again.  
  
"I hate him," Ron mumbled after a moment. "I really hate him." He sat down and crossed his arms as he stared out the window.  
  
Harry and Hermione just looked at him, not knowing what to say.  
  
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So? Please leave me feedback if you found the rest of this story okay! I'd really appreciate it! ( 


	8. A Surprise at Breakfast

A/N: I'm glad everyone found this story alright. If you have any other questions, please feel free to ask. Thank you so much for the reviews left on the last chapter!  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing in this story…  
  
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School was going well. They'd been treated to a fairly early first week of classes which was a bit surprising considering the fact that Professor McGonagall had stressed the importance of the O.W.L.s to them at the end of fourth year. Even Snape seemed to be taking it a bit easy on his classes, as no one from any of the years was complaining about him. The best thing about the start of the school year was the fact that Professor Lupin had returned to the position of the Defense Against Dark Arts professor. Apparently, Professor Dumbledore had assured all of the parents that their children would be perfectly safe with Lupin in the school; either that or he was completely ignoring the parents' protests. Harry had been ecstatic to see the return of Lupin, though he guessed very seriously that Professor Lupin was there for a reason other than just teaching. In fact, he was positive that he'd been placed in the school to keep a close eye on Harry- probably both at the insistence of Sirius and of Dumbledore. Yes, everything was going just fine.  
  
A week into the semester, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all trudged down to breakfast, sleepy after a late night of chess and studying. They took their usual seats at the Gryffindor table beside the twins and Ginny. The three of them were deep in conversation with Lee Jordan about something Harry was positive he didn't want to hear about. They looked up when Harry, Ron, and Hermione joined them, and Ginny could barely stifle a giggle. Harry was definitely sure he didn't want to know what they'd been discussing.  
  
Without really speaking, they all helped themselves to the variety of food in front of them. Hermione was still holding to her "no meat" convictions, though she was surprisingly not pushing anyone else to share her views. It wasn't until the flutter of owls signaling the morning mail call arrived that a conversation started.  
  
Harry glanced around quickly, but he saw no sign of Hedwig. He'd written Sirius a few days before, but he had yet to receive a response. He did, however, spot Pigwidgeon who was obviously returning from a visit to the Weasley home. He was fluttering madly as he made his way over to the four Weasleys seated around the table, and Ron rolled his eyes at the sight of him. "Who's it for?" he asked, only half-interested.  
  
Ginny reached up and caught Pigwidgeon, soothing him in order to calm him enough to remove the letter. "It's for all of us," she answered, surprise in her voice.  
  
Her three present brothers all immediately looked up, and Harry couldn't miss the worry that suddenly crossed all of their freckled features.  
  
"What's wrong?" Fred asked instantly.  
  
"Is it Dad? Or Percy?" Ron was looking at his sister anxiously.  
  
"What does it say, Gin?" George asked impatiently.  
  
Ginny shot them all a sharp look. "Well, I really haven't had the chance to read it," she replied sarcastically as she opened the letter and unfolded the parchment. She read the letter for what seemed like an awfully long time. Her brow furrowed, and it looked as though she was reading it again just to make sure she'd read correctly.  
  
"What is it?" Fred asked, anxiety covering his face.  
  
Ginny looked up at them, her eyes wide and shocked. "Mum…" she stuttered on the word, obviously bringing dread to not only her brothers but Harry and Hermione, as well. "Mum's pregnant…"  
  
Ron's face went straight into his hands. George put one hand to his forehead. Fred leaned back in his chair slowly, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head. And Ginny looked as though she was going to be sick.  
  
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"I think it's sweet," Hermione said matter-of-factly. She was sitting around a small table in the Gryffindor Common Room with the four Weasleys and Harry. They were playing Exploding Snap, but it seemed as though they'd spent more time discussing the newly discovered pregnancy of Mrs. Weasley than actually playing.  
  
"She's too old to have a baby!" Ginny asserted seriously. "I mean way too old!"  
  
"She's not too old," Hermione said with a roll of the eyes. "She's what? Forty-five?"  
  
"Forty-six," Fred corrected. "Too old."  
  
"Forty-six is not old," Hermione continued. "Loads of women are having babies in their forties and even their fifties these days." She gave a nod of her head as though to close the subject.  
  
No such luck.  
  
Ron looked at her incredulously. "Hermione, that's gross." He threw a card into the pile in the middle.  
  
"It is not gross!" It was clear that the brown-haired girl was getting seriously impatient with the lot of teenagers surrounding her.  
  
Harry was watching them all with only slight amusement. He wasn't too sure how he'd feel if he were in Ron's position, but then again, he had absolutely no way to place himself there considering he was the only child of deceased parents. "Don't you think you should write your mum and let her know you got the letter?" he asked, throwing his own card into the middle.  
  
"Yeah, we should probably do that," Fred commended. Then he mocked a fake letter. "Dear Mum, We got the news, and what can we say? We're not really too thrilled because the mere thought of you and Dad conceiving another child is enough to make us all puke up the pumpkin juice we had at dinner. Gin said the baby's coming in April, so reckon we'll see the bugger 'round Easter. Oh, yeah. Say hi to Dad."  
  
His brothers and sister all laughed at his mockery, but Hermione just looked at him in a way that just told them all they were in for a scolding.  
  
"I really don't think you should refer to your little brother or sister as… as a bugger," she finished a bit more quietly, her cheeks flushing slightly at her use of language.  
  
"Why not?" Fred asked, eyebrows raised. "We call Ron a bugger all the time."  
  
"Yes, but that's different," Hermione explained. "Ron's earned the title himself; a baby is defenseless."  
  
"Hey!" Ron protested as everyone else laughed.  
  
Hermione smiled sheepishly at him. "It's the truth," she answered, grinning.  
  
He just rolled his eyes and eventually joined in the laughter.  
  
"I wonder what they're gonna name him," George said after awhile.  
  
"What makes you so sure it's going to be a boy?" Harry asked, throwing another card into the pile.  
  
George shrugged. "There's no way they could pull off two girls in a row. Hell, it took them twelve years to get one the first time around!"  
  
Ginny grinned rather impishly at them all and sighed softly. "Ah, well… You know what they say. Practice makes perfect…"  
  
All of her brothers glared at her, but Harry couldn't help but burst into laughter at her comment. He wasn't sure why it struck him as so funny, but he really couldn't help it. Ginny snuck a glance at him and grinned wickedly before turning to her brothers and shrugging her shoulders. "Hey, it's the truth."  
  
Harry wondered when Ginny Weasley had changed so much. Not only was she not the insanely nervous, shy child that she'd once been, she was now actually quite pretty. Harry wasn't sure why he'd never noticed this until now, but he was definitely noticing it now. In fact, he liked her very much. Maybe not in the same way that he liked Cho Chang, but there was something about her that made Ginny absolutely endearing. He compared the physical beauty of Cho and Ginny mentally for a moment. It was Cho's hair that made her so beautiful to him; it was so shiny and full and darker even than his. Ginny had the trademark Weasley hair, and he didn't find anything particularly spectacular about it, considering the fact that he'd spent over four years staring at Ron's almost twenty-four hours a day. No, it was Ginny's eyes that made her so beautiful. She had the biggest eyes he'd ever seen, and they were the deepest of browns- the color of chocolate even.  
  
"Wow, the gap between Ginny and this kid is going to be even bigger than the one between her and Bill." George's voice knocked Harry from his momentary reverie. "And she's just the youngest! Think how this kid's gonna feel with a brother twenty-five years older than him!"  
  
Harry hadn't thought about that. Having a Weasley baby was going to be odd…  
  
*********************************  
  
"I like Bridget." Hermione was sitting cross-legged in front of the fire, leaning against a coffee table. Ginny was beside her with a quill and parchment making a list.  
  
"Bridget Weasley…" She shrugged as she wrote it down. "That sounds okay, I guess."  
  
"What are you two doing?"  
  
Both girls looked up to see Harry and Ron standing behind the couch, watching them intently.  
  
"Thinking up baby names," Ginny said, looking back down at the list she was working on.  
  
The boys walked around to sit down, and they immediately leaned over to look over Ginny's shoulder at the list. Ron snorted with laughter as he scanned it.  
  
"Helen?" He raised his eyebrows at the girls. "No one is naming my little sister Helen!"  
  
"That was all Hermione…" Ginny said, shaking her head. She, too, had protested the name when it had first been suggested.  
  
Hermione glared at Ron. "I think it's cute!"  
  
"It is not cute!" Ron laughed at the ludicrous thought. "It sounds like a grandmother, not a baby!"  
  
Hermione opened her mouth to retort, but Ginny spoke before she could get the chance. "What about Alana?"  
  
Ron wrinkled his nose. "That's ugly, too! And I don't know why you're picking out all these girls' names anyway. It's going to be a boy."  
  
"It's going to be a girl," Ginny said defiantly.  
  
"And anyway," continued Hermione, "boys names are all ugly."  
  
Harry and Ron look scandalized. "Hey!" they protested as one.  
  
"Girls names are much more fun to pick out," she finished, ignoring them both.  
  
"How about Sarah?" Ginny asked, adding it to the list.  
  
"Too common," Harry spoke up. Everyone looked at him, surprised, but he just shrugged his shoulders. "What about Leslie?"  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "Leslie Weasley… Oh, that's cute," he finished sarcastically. "Elizabeth is good."  
  
"We're not naming her after the queen," Ginny said with her own roll of the eyes.  
  
"Olivia!" Hermione spoke up suddenly. "Olivia Weasley!"  
  
Ginny nodded and added it to the list, but Ron snickered loudly. "What is it with you and grandmum names? I feel sorry for your future children…"  
  
Hermione shot him a sharp look but retorted quickly. "Well, I feel sorry for yours! Poor things will probably be named Chudley and Quaffle."  
  
Ginny and Harry broke into fits of laughter, but Ron's face just lit up. "Chudley Weasley! Now, that's got a nice ring!"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered something about, "Stupid boys."  
  
After the laughter died down, Harry made another suggestion. "What about Ashley?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. "That sounds like an American cheerleader… What about Lauren?"  
  
No one protested this one, so it made it onto the list.  
  
"I like Madeline," Ron spoke up, serious for once. This name, too, drew no protests and was added to the list.  
  
They went through several more suggestions, some getting shot down and a lucky few making it to the list which finally included:  
  
Tara  
  
Amy  
  
Kristin  
  
Helen (Hermione refused its removal)  
  
Bridget  
  
Alana  
  
Olivia  
  
Lauren  
  
Madeline  
  
Marie  
  
Savannah  
  
Victoria  
  
Emily  
  
Chelsea  
  
Julia  
  
Catherine  
  
Hermione was really pulling for Olivia, Ginny for Savannah, and Ron and Harry both liked Julia the best. Not that it mattered much because, according to Ron, the baby was going to be a boy anyway, so they were basically just wasting time.  
  
It was fun, nonetheless. Harry had never really given much thought to what he would name children if he were to ever have any. Both Hermione and Ginny admitted to thinking about it quite often, though. Neither of them allowed their favorite name on the list, though, as they each said they were saving it for their own children. When asked about the names, they'd both been a bit reluctant in disclosing them.  
  
Finally, though, Ginny had given in. "My favorite name for a little girl is Brianna Noelle."  
  
Hermione had given a huge "Awe" to this suggestion. "That is so cute!"  
  
Harry, too, thought it was a rather cute name, and even Ron couldn't shoot it down. "Noelle's nice," he admitted.  
  
"What about yours, Hermione?" Harry asked, turning to his female best friend.  
  
Hermione blushed slightly.  
  
"It's probably Josephine Ruth," Ron said through snorted snickers.  
  
Hermione glared at him. "It is not!"  
  
"What is it?" Ginny prodded.  
  
Hermione sighed and finally gave in. "Fine. My favorite girls' name is Kalynn Hannah."  
  
Ginny nearly fell out of her seat "awing" at the name. Harry grinned at her, and she returned the smile, blushing slightly.  
  
"Well, Ron?" Hermione asked sarcastically. "Go to it. Tell me how horrible it is."  
  
But Ron didn't make any snide remarks. "I really like that," he admitted seriously. "Too bad you won't let it go on the list. Kalynn Weasley sounds really good."  
  
Ron didn't realize the implications of what he'd said, but Ginny certainly didn't miss them. She instantly broke into a fit of giggles, and even Harry had to force himself not to laugh. Hermione caught the implications, too, and blushed a shade of light pink.  
  
Ron stared at them all, confused. "What?" he demanded after a moment.  
  
Ginny struggled to answer him through her laughter. "You could always have your own little Kalynn Hannah Weasley, Ron," she said, giggling.  
  
Ron still didn't get the humor for a moment. When it finally kicked in, though, he glared at his younger sister while blushing furiously. Payback would be a bitch. "Well, I'm sure you wouldn't mind a little Brianna Noelle Potter, now would you?"  
  
This shut both Harry and Ginny up, and the four of them sat around silently blushing for only a few minutes before departing in four different directions.  
  
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	9. Early Morning Potions

A/N: Wow! You guys are really enjoying this, and that thrills me! Thanks to everyone who left feedback on the last chapter! I'm having a blast writing this story (It's my personal fav)! Thanks again!  
  
Disclaimer: Honestly, do you really think I own them?  
  
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Great. It was Monday, and that meant one thing- double Potions right after breakfast. All of the fifth year Gryffindors were standing in the hallway outside of the dungeons. Each one looked to be anticipating the early morning Potions lesson even less than the one before them. Lavender was braiding Parvati's hair into a long plait while Parvati picked at her fingernails sleepily. Dean and Neville were both lounging against the wall, their eyes closed and bored expressions on their face. Seamus, Harry, and Ron were deep in a discussion about the upcoming Quidditch tryouts. And Hermione was on the floor, the Fifth Year Standard Book of Spells open on her lap, not paying attention to anything around her.  
  
It wasn't until a low, drawling voice jerked her out of her reverie that she woke up. The Slytherins had joined them in the hallway, Draco Malfoy, of course, in the lead. He was addressing the small circle that included Seamus, Harry, and Ron.  
  
"Going out for Quidditch, Weasley?" he asked, a hint of a smirk on his lips.  
  
"Yeah," Ron said defensively. "What's it to you?"  
  
Malfoy laughed. "Oh, it's nothing really. I was just wondering how your parents would afford a third Quidditch player. It's not a cheap game, you know."  
  
Several of the Slytherins laughed, and Ron grew red. "Sod off, Malfoy," he said through clinched teeth.  
  
Malfoy, though, was not about to drop the subject. "It's a good thing your little sister doesn't want to play, too. Why, your parents would probably have to starve for three months!"  
  
This had all of the Slytherins nearly rolling with laughter. All eight of the Gryffindors were glaring at them dangerously.  
  
"Oh, why don't you grow up, Malfoy?" Lavender asked suddenly, her blue eyes flashing.  
  
This caused all of the Slytherins to turn to her, and Pansy Parkinson spoke. "Defending Weasley, Lavender? Got a thing for him, do you? Feel the need to protect him?" She grinned evilly. "I thought that was Granger's job."  
  
Hermione glared up at her for only a second and listened to the nasty little snickers around her before slamming the book shut and standing up. "And what's your job, Pansy?" she challenged daringly. "Following Malfoy around like the sick, rejected little puppy you are and always will be?"  
  
This caused no snickers at all, for every single Slytherin and Gryffindor alike was far too in shock to make any noise. It took several moments for the insult to reach Pansy's brain before her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Oh, that's funny, Granger. What happened? Straightened your hair and developed a sense of wit all in one summer?"  
  
"Well, if that was supposed to be funny, you seriously need to take some wit lessons of your own," Hermione shot back instantly.  
  
"At least she would be able to afford them," Malfoy sneered. "Unlike certain members of your little circle, Granger."  
  
Hermione was about to shoot back at the blonde-headed snake, but Ron beat her to it.  
  
"That is getting so old, Malfoy. When are you going to come up with something better?" His face was tinged red nonetheless.  
  
"The moment you show up in new robes." Malfoy's latest crack got the Slytherins laughing again.  
  
Ron looked to be seriously edging the end of his rope; his normally bright blue eyes were darkening menacingly. Harry grabbed his arm before he could lunge at Malfoy and whispered to his best friend, "Just ignore him. He's not worth the trouble."  
  
Malfoy just continued to laugh. "I can't wait to see how your parents make it if you do get on the Quidditch team…"  
  
Ron jerked his arm away from Harry and reached for the collar of Malfoy's robes, but Hermione quickly jumped in front of him, blocking his way. "Ron, no!" she said quickly. "You'll get expelled!"  
  
"Of course, your mother could do to skip a few meals, so maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing." Malfoy's last comment had all the Slytherins nearly howling with laughter and Ron absolutely boiling.  
  
Hermione, too, was furious. "I, on the other hand, will only get detention."  
  
And with that, she'd whipped around and knocked Malfoy right in the nose as hard as she could. He staggered backwards and looked at her in shock. He wasn't the only one looking at her like that, though. Every single person in the corridor was absolutely speechless. Hermione didn't wait for any of them to make a sound before she lunged once again at the annoying prat in front of her. This time she shoved him hard enough to knock him to the ground where she collapsed on top of him, sending him sprawling onto his back. Without thinking, she started to once again pound away at his face, sending her fists as hard as she could into his nose, lip, and jaw.  
  
She was dimly aware of people yelling all around her. Her housemates were screaming words of encouragement, and she could hear Pansy Parkinson's high- pitched voice yelling for somebody to do something. Hermione paid attention to none of them, and she didn't even wonder why Crabbe and Goyle weren't jumping to Malfoy's defense. She was only focusing on doing something she'd wanted to do for a long time.  
  
Ron and Harry were both stunned speechless. Their mouths were hanging open in shock, and they shared a very brief look of impressed disbelief before turning back to watch their best friend pound away at their worst enemy.  
  
"We should do something. She's really going to get in trouble." Harry finally whispered, earning a nod from the redhead beside of him.  
  
Ron hesitated for only a moment more before hurrying over. "Hermione, stop!" he hissed at her, though truthfully, he was enjoying this probably more than he'd ever enjoyed anything in his life. When she gave no sign of acknowledging him, Ron reached down and physically lifted her away from the now not-so-cocky Slytherin she was on top of.  
  
"Get off, Ron!" Hermione yelled, kicking in mid-air as she struggled against him. Ron held her tightly, though, restraining her from escaping.  
  
"Stop!" he hissed at her once more. And finally, she stopped struggling long enough to watch Malfoy stumble to his feet. He was holding a hand to his nose, obviously not wanting anyone to see the blood pouring from it. He glared briefly at Crabbe and Goyle who were both staring at him dumbstruck before turning his glare to Hermione who shot it right back at him.  
  
"How does it feel to get the shit beat out of you by a girl?" Seamus sneered from beside Harry.  
  
Malfoy, though, ignored him and focused his words on the girl in question. "Ugly little Mudblood bitch," he muttered.  
  
Hermione made a move to lunge for him once again, but she quickly found Ron shoving her behind him and into Harry's arms. She watched with uncharacteristic pleasure as Ron proceeded to finish what she had started.  
  
It took only a second for both Ron and Malfoy to tumble to the ground in a mix of what was now two sets of fists instead of just one. Malfoy wouldn't have dared hit Hermione back, but he didn't think twice about throwing his own punches at the youngest Weasley boy. The two fifth years were rolling around in what was easily the best fight Hogwarts had seen in a few years.  
  
All around them, people were yelling words of encouragement from both sides. The Gryffindors were all ecstatic at the sight, considering Ron seemed to be winning the brawl. Insults were being hurled every which way by the Slytherins at not only Ron but Hermione, as well. Ron seemed to be taking no notice of the insults, though it did seem as though every time the word 'Mudblood' was yelled, he always landed a rather hard punch quite instantly. Hermione, though, was definitely taking notice, and she was doing something quite out of character for the well-behaved Gryffindor that she was.  
  
She was swearing up a storm.  
  
Harry didn't know whether to be more enthralled by the sight of Ron nearly murdering Malfoy with his bare hands or in the sight of Hermione telling Pansy Parkinson to "shut the hell up and kiss my ass." Both were equally exciting.  
  
"You…" Malfoy had to struggle for breath as he addressed the boy he was fighting with, "and that know-it-all bitch…" A punch landed directly on his jaw, and it took him a minute to resume speaking, "I would think even a Mudblood could do better than a Weasley!"  
  
Ron was about to respond with his fists, but Hermione had suddenly jerked free of Harry and run over to the two people on the floor. With all of her might, she kicked Malfoy in the side of his stomach, earning a loud "Oof!" from the Slytherin.  
  
"Why don't you go fuck yourself, you bastard?" she spat out angrily, glaring down at the person in question.  
  
Ron definitely took notice of this.  
  
Momentarily forgetting what he was supposed to be doing, he stopped fighting and looked straight up at Hermione with the same look he'd given her when she'd slapped Malfoy in their third year- a mixture of shock and admiration, blood dripping from his lip and his left eye swelling rapidly. Hermione blushed slightly and shrugged, biting her lower lip. Ron finally burst into a full-out smile which Hermione returned instantly.  
  
Harry was too shocked to do anything but stand there.  
  
During Ron's momentary lapse of attention, Malfoy managed to land a good shot at Ron's lip, bringing even more blood to the surface. It didn't take Ron long to regain his status as winner of the fight. Despite the blood pouring from his lip and the now purple eye, Ron still looked much better off than Malfoy did. The Slytherin was still sporting the bloodied nose that Hermione had given him, though it appeared that Ron had made it worse, as it was now at a slightly odd angle. He, too, had a black eye, and his left cheek seemed to have completely turned blue with a horrible bruise.  
  
Through staggered breaths, Malfoy managed to get one last insult in. "You… should teach… your… girlfriend… to act like… a… lady… I don't… think… bitches… are acceptable… mates… even for the… poor… community…"  
  
Ron raised his knee and landed it exactly where he knew Malfoy would feel it the most.  
  
The two fighters didn't take notice of a furious Potions master making his way quickly toward the commotion. In fact, it took several moments for their classmates to even notice him. Their yelling gradually died as more and more took notice, but the fighting didn't cease until Snape had literally dragged Ron off of Malfoy.  
  
"Get up!" he ordered. "Both of you!"  
  
After they'd both managed to get to their feet, Snape still holding Ron's arm to restrain him, they shot glaring daggers at each other.  
  
"What is going on?" Snape demanded, looking directly at Malfoy for the answer.  
  
"They attacked me, Sir," Malfoy said earnestly. "Both of them!"  
  
Snape's angry look transformed into a somehow amused look. "Both of them? Potter was involved as well?" For some reason, this prospect seemed to be bringing him inner joy.  
  
"No, Sir," Malfoy pointed at Hermione who was behind the professor. "Granger."  
  
Snape turned on his heels to survey the girl in question. Though he couldn't mask his shock, it was obvious that Miss Granger had, in fact, been involved in the brawl. Her shirt was coming untucked in several places from the waistband of her skirt, and her hair, which had been pulled into a tight ponytail at breakfast, was now hanging loosely out of its elastic band, long strands falling into her face.  
  
"Well, well, well," Snape said in his usual drawling whisper. "This is certainly unexpected."  
  
Both Ron and Hermione knew well enough not to speak and even attempt to defend themselves, as it would be an attempt made in vain. They each stood staring at the professor, not allowing themselves to show any fear of him. Snape stood staring right back, an evil little grin on his pale face.  
  
"Tell me, how is it that the student with the highest marks in the entire fifth year finds herself in such a situation? I would have expected nothing less from Weasley, but Miss Granger, I am quite shocked."  
  
Hermione chose not to answer; she forced herself to just stay silent. It would prove her profitable in the end, she knew. She was thankful that Ron, too, was keeping his mouth closed.  
  
When Snape realized he was getting no response, he shot them both a nasty glare. "This is most unacceptable. I'll see you both expelled for this."  
  
Hermione felt something in her stomach drop, but she forced herself not to cry. Even though she could feel the tears stinging at the backs of her eyes.  
  
Snape turned to the other member of the brawl. "Mr. Malfoy, you may go to the infirmary and get yourself cleaned up. You two," he turned back to Ron and Hermione, "will follow me. Everyone else will wait here until I return." With that, he turned on his heels and glided back up the staircase.  
  
Ron and Hermione followed silently, not daring to look at each other or any of their classmates. They could hear several of the Slytherins laughing, but they ignored them and made their way up the stairs after the Potions master.  
  
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Twenty minutes later, the pair of Gryffindors was sitting in an empty Charms classroom, waiting for the return of their Professor. He had left them there with yet another promise of expulsion before heading off to get the Headmaster. They'd not spoken a word to each other since his disappearance, and the silence was threatening to consume them both. Ron was glaring angrily at the floor, and Hermione was sitting nervously in a chair, swallowing every few seconds to assure that she wouldn't break into tears.  
  
Finally, she broke the silence, unable to deal with it any longer. "What time is it?" It was a stupid question, but at least the silence was no longer threatening them.  
  
Ron glanced up from the floor at his watch and muttered, "Ten fifteen."  
  
Hermione nodded slowly and looked down at her lap. "Ron, what do you think is going to happen?" she blurted out suddenly.  
  
Ron looked up at her and said nothing for a minute before shrugging his shoulders. "You heard Snape."  
  
"But I can't get expelled!" she cried out seriously, no longer interested in her lap. She could feel the tears once again welling in her eyes, and she willed them away.  
  
"They're not going to expel the smartest girl in the school for fighting," he said emotionlessly. "You don't have to worry about that. But me… I expect I'll be on a train home tomorrow." He was speaking quite bitterly now, and Hermione was positive she was about to cry.  
  
"But Dumbledore is the only one who can expel us," she spoke up hopefully. "He's always fair! He'll listen to us!"  
  
Ron just shrugged again and stared back down at the floor. He didn't speak at all, and Hermione had nothing else to say, either. They sat in silence for several more minutes before the door to the classroom burst open. In walked a smug-looking Professor Snape, a furious-looking Professor McGonagall, and a disappointed-looking Professor Dumbledore. It was the last of the three that got to them the most.  
  
Professor McGonagall was the first to speak. Her voice was loud and more angry than they'd ever heard it. "The two of you have done some pretty exasperating things since you came to this school, but I have never been more furious with either of you! What kind of an example are you setting for the younger Gryffindors?! What do you think they think when they see two fifth years fighting like children? You are supposed to be setting an example, and you go and behave as though you were still eleven years old! I cannot believe this! You should both be utterly ashamed of yourselves!"  
  
Hermione wasn't sure about Ron, but she knew that her Head of House's speech was making her feel most shameful. She looked down at her lap once again and listened to the rest of the lecture.  
  
"I would like to think that you were somewhat mature, but I suppose that is too much to hope for! Fifty points from Gryffindor- each!" She finished with a sharp glare that was enough to make both of them melt sheepishly into their seats.  
  
Professor Dumbledore sighed slightly and shook his head. "Well, I cannot say that I'm not disappointed in the two of you. However, as much as I'm aware that the two of you have your irritable moments with each other, I find it hard to believe that one of your arguments has turned so physical." His eyes fell on Ron's busted lip and now very swollen eye. "Am I wrong in assuming that there is a missing party here?"  
  
"Headmaster, they each attacked Mr. Malfoy separately. I've sent him to the hospital wing to be taken care of." Snape spoke up in the same sort of voice that Malfoy used whenever addressing him- sleazy and sucking up.  
  
A small smile covered Professor Dumbledore's face as he nodded knowingly. "Ah, yes. Mr. Malfoy. Well, that explains a lot." He turned to Ron and Hermione. "Well, it pains me to see two of the most promising students Hogwarts has to offer engaging in such childish behavior, but I also understand that some things are inevitable. I am actually quite surprised that we have not been forced to deal with an incident like this in the past."  
  
He didn't sound too angry. Hermione held her breath.  
  
"Seeing as Professor McGonagall has already taken a hundred points from Gryffindor, I think it only fair to remove fifty from Slytherin on Mr. Malfoy's behalf."  
  
Ron and Hermione then snuck a small grin at each other just as Snape protested.  
  
"But, sir! If you had seen Mr. Malfoy! He looked absolutely…"  
  
"Now, Severus," Professor Dumbledore said with a small smile, "I would hope that you would expect me to take care of this in the fairest manner possible. It does take two, or in this case three, to fight." He turned his attention back to the students. "I hope that in the future the both you will use your brains before you resort to your fists."  
  
Ron and Hermione glanced at each and muttered a "Yes, Sir," in unison.  
  
The Headmaster nodded. "Right then. Well, Professors, I believe our lunch is nearly prepared. Shall we?"  
  
Professor McGonagall shot another fierce look at her students before exiting the classroom. Snape shot them each a nasty glare before hesitantly following her. Dumbledore turned once more. "Mr. Weasley, perhaps you should see Madam Pomfrey. Your eye is looking rather nasty." Ron nodded, and Professor Dumbledore asked on more question. "Tell me, though. Did you win the fight?"  
  
Ron glanced at Hermione who nodded. Dumbledore did not comment, but a small smile crossed his lips, and he winked at the pair. "I shall see you both at lunch."  
  
He left the two of them alone, shutting the door behind him. They turned to each other and broke into identical grins.  
  
It had totally been worth it.  
  
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	10. Happy Birthday, Hermione

A/N: I'm so happy that you guys are enjoying this story as much as I am! I absolutely adore this story (It's my favorite one to write!), so it means so much when you guys review and say you're liking it.  
  
This chapter was basically written because I always get pissed off that Hermione and Ron seemingly never have birthdays even though we all know when they are. I mean, I understand that the books are written from Harry's POV, but you would think he would at least acknowledge his best friends' birthdays, now wouldn't you?  
  
Disclaimer: I own none of them, obviously.  
  
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The next week passed quickly. Everyone was still in a frenzy over the now legendary fight that had pursued outside of the Potions classroom, and Ron and Hermione found it difficult to walk down the hallway without being stopped and congratulated by a Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. The whole of Gryffindor was absolutely elated with the fight, and they were quite willing to participate in the all-out war that resulted between themselves and Slytherin in the days following the fight. Tension was higher than it had ever been between the two houses, and everyone was getting in on it.  
  
The middle of September came and passed, bringing with it Hermione's birthday on the 19th. She awoke to the sound of Parvati and Lavender "Awing" over something. Sleepily, she raised her head and looked at her roommates who were both sitting on Lavender's bed, and they looked up when they heard Hermione sit up in her bed.  
  
"Hermione, come look what you've got!" Parvati cried out instantly.  
  
It took a couple of seconds for the fact that it was her birthday to register in Hermione's brain. "What is it?" she asked groggily as she climbed out of her bed and crossed the room to join the other girls.  
  
"Look what your parents sent!" Lavender was nearly beside herself with glee.  
  
One glance at her bed, told Hermione exactly why. Sitting between her roommates was the most adorable baby owl she'd ever seen. She was a tawny color and was just beyond words to describe its cuteness. "Awe!" Hermione couldn't contain her own excitement at the sight, and she instantly reached down to pick the baby bird up and cuddle it. "Awe!" It was all she could think of to say as she snuggled the bird under her chin and giggled at its softness. She was even smaller than Pigwidgeon, making her the tiniest owl she'd ever laid eyes on- not to mention the cutest.  
  
"She's so adorable!" Lavender and Parvati were both gleaming with joy at the sight of such an animal.  
  
Crookshanks suddenly appeared at Hermione's feet, and she looked down and giggled. "Look, Crookie," she said sweetly as she bent down and held the baby owl out to her cat. "Isn't she precious?"  
  
Crookshanks sniffed the bird cautiously and then purred softly indicating his acceptance of the new pet. Hermione laughed and looked up as Parvati and Lavender grinned one last time at the new animal and left the dormitory in the direction of the bathroom.  
  
A knock at the door drew her attention, and she looked curiously at it. "Come in," she called, turning her attention back to the bird she was still cuddling.  
  
"Happy birthday!"  
  
She looked up, startled to find both Ron and Harry standing in her room. Jumping up and glancing around, she said, "You're not supposed to be in here!"  
  
Harry shrugged. "You can't do anything about it. You're not a prefect." He grinned at her, and she rolled her eyes.  
  
"You'll get in trouble," she said seriously.  
  
"Not if we don't get caught. And we know for a fact that Parvati and Lavender take a long time in the shower." Ron said all of this with a shrug of his own shoulders.  
  
Hermione, however, raised an eyebrow at the two boys. "I'm not even going to ask how you know that…"  
  
They laughed, and Harry gave their explanation. "Seamus told us."  
  
This was more than enough explanation, and Hermione chose not to think too hard about it.  
  
"And anyway, we had to come up here and tell you Happy Birthday," Ron said, grinning. "Baby Hermione's finally fifteen." He said this with an air of reminiscence, as though he were her great-uncle or something.  
  
"Took you long enough," Harry added, smiling.  
  
"Yeah," she said, rolling her eyes. "Two whole months longer than you…"  
  
"Hey," Harry said seriously. "Two months is a long time!"  
  
Shaking her head, she finally smiled at them. "Look what my mum and dad sent!"  
  
Ron and Harry crossed the room to study the tiny bird Hermione was babying. They both laughed at the sight, and Harry said, "She's cute."  
  
"That owl's smaller than Pig!" Ron said in amazement as he gently poked at it.  
  
Hermione beamed at them. "Isn't she sweet?"  
  
"What's her name?" Harry asked, gently stroking her feathers.  
  
Hermione bit her lip and shrugged her shoulders. "I haven't named her yet."  
  
Ron grinned wildly. "Name her Quaffle!"  
  
Hermione's smile faded, and she shook her head slowly. "No. But you know? I could name her after you, Ron." She turned her attention back to the bird and said in a baby voice. "Would you like to be called Idiot?"  
  
Harry burst into laughter as Hermione shot Ron a quick smirk before ducking out of his range when he lunged at her. She quickly passed the owl to Harry and raced to the other side of the room, Ron close on her heels. He cornered her, of course, when she hit the wall, and without warning, grabbed her around the waist from behind and swung her around quickly. She let out a huge shriek, but he quickly used one of his hands to clamp over her mouth as he set her back down to the ground, his other hand still tight around her waist.  
  
"Are you trying to get us caught or what?" he asked, grinning.  
  
Hermione couldn't answer him, as his hand was tightly over her mouth. She just raised her eyebrows and shrugged. Then, with a gleam of the eye, she let her tongue slip from her mouth and lick the inside palm of his hand.  
  
"Ew, gross!" Ron shouted as he jerked his hand away and looked at it. Hermione laughed but quickly started screaming, too, when he wiped his hand on her bare arm. This, of course, set both Ron and Harry into hysterics. "Now, what were you saying about 'Idiot'?"  
  
Hermione glared at him. "Oh, shut it."  
  
Ron continued to laugh. "So, the bitty owl's named Quaffle, huh?"  
  
"No!" Hermione went and retrieved her new pet from Harry.  
  
"Awe, c'mon, Hermione," Ron said playfully. "You get to name my little sister, so I get to name your owl."  
  
"I don't get to name your sister, and anyway, I thought you said it was going to be a boy."  
  
"It will be," said Ron assuredly. "But that's beside the point."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I don't know what I'm going to call her," she said as she stroked the soft feathers on its tiny head. "Maybe Persephone," she said thoughtfully.  
  
"Persephone?" Ron raised his eyebrows in confusion.  
  
"She's my favorite mythological character." Realizing Ron probably didn't know the story and not sure if Harry did, she explained quickly. "She was the daughter of Zeus and Demeter, and the god of the Underworld, Hades, stole her to make her goddess of the Dead. But Demeter was so upset at the loss of her daughter, that she was called back to Earth. Hades made her eat a pomegranate plant, the food of the Dead, so that she would have to return to the Underworld for 1/3 of the year. Whenever she was gone, the earth would die, but upon her arrival everything would begin to blossom again. The myth explains the seasons," she finished.  
  
Ron's eyebrows did not descend from his forehead after her explanation. "And what does this have to do with an owl?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. "Nothing. I just like the story." She held the owl up to her face. "You like Persephone?" The owl hooted softly in response, and Hermione smiled. "Persephone it is, then!"  
  
Ron rolled his eyes quite briefly at Harry when Hermione's attention was on Persephone. Harry had to stifle a giggle by speaking. "We came up here to give you presents," he said grinning.  
  
"Presents?" Hermione, too, grinned and set Persephone back into the small cage that her parents had sent to accompany her. "You guys really didn't have to get me anything…"  
  
"Oh, shut up, Hermione," Harry said, rolling his eyes and handing her a heavy box. She knew instantly that it was a book, and she smiled as she took the paper off and opened it.  
  
'Arithmancy, A History'  
  
Hermione found the humor in the gift and joined Ron in laughing. "And just what kind of a book is this, Harry?" she asked, slightly shaking her head.  
  
"It tells about the history of Arithmancy, of course! It's got the complete history and origin of the subject, not to mention detailed biographies of every-known Arithmancist to date." He said all of this very seriously, but his smile was showing in his eyes.  
  
"Well, thank you, Harry," she said, still giggling as she set the book down beside Persephone's cage, then turning to give him a friendly hug. "What did you get me?" she asked, turning to Ron with a roll of the eyes. "House- Elves, A History?" She was being sarcastic.  
  
Ron laughed. "No, but I looked for it. There's no such book."  
  
"You actually looked for it? Are you serious?" she asked in disbelief.  
  
"Completely," answered Harry. "We spent two hours searching Flourish and Botts while you were with Ginny. We really wanted to find it, too. Figured you'd love that."  
  
Hermione had to laugh out loud. "Well, thanks anyway," she said dryly.  
  
"Here," Ron held out a box much smaller than the one Harry had given her.  
  
She eyed it carefully. "This isn't something Fred and George told you to give me, is it?"  
  
"Do you really think I'd do something like that to you?" Ron asked innocently.  
  
Hermione just raised her eyebrows. "Okay, I won't answer that question…"  
  
"Just open it," Ron said, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Okay…" Hermione pulled the paper off of this box, too, and took the lid off. She was more than surprised to find something much more personal than the box of Sugar Quills she'd been expecting. Inside the box was a beautiful, thin, silver-chained bracelet with a tiny violet jewel hanging from the bottom of it. "Wow," she said quietly as she lifted it out of the box and held it up to admire it. "It's… beautiful." She didn't know what else to say.  
  
"I know," Ron said quietly; Harry noticed that he was carefully averting his eyes away from Hermione as he spoke. "That's why it reminded me of you."  
  
Hermione instantly looked up at his words, her face set very seriously. Ron, on the other hand, turned the deepest shade of red possible as he desperately struggled to save himself.  
  
"Uh… Um… I mean… You know… I just thought you would like it because it's so pretty…" He was looking extremely nervous, and Harry didn't know whether to be amused or sympathetic for his friend. He settled on amusement. Ron deserved this stuttering for being stupid enough to let something like that slip.  
  
Hermione, too, was looking quite nervous, but she smiled shyly at Ron and quietly said, "Thank you." Ron looked up just in time to see her wrap her arms carefully around his neck and hug him. Harry watched Ron's face turn even redder, if that was at all possible, before he reluctantly wrapped his own arms around her middle. The tank top that Hermione had worn to bed raised up when she raised her arms, and Ron's hand managed to come into direct contact with the bare skin of her back, and Harry saw him quickly move his hands higher to cover a part of her back safely covered with the material of her shirt. Yes, this was rather amusing. But then Harry studied the hug, and, for the first time, pondered whether or not Hermione had the same feelings for Ron that he was sure Ron had for Hermione. She certainly hadn't hugged Harry the same way she was hugging Ron; that was for sure. The hug she had given him had been the same type that Ginny gave her brothers- quick, tight, and almost jokingly. The way she was hugging Ron was different somehow.  
  
It took them much longer to pull apart.  
  
When they finally decided to break the hug, they were both quite pink, and neither of them looked at each other or Harry. They simply looked around the room, seemingly studying it carefully, though Hermione had lived there for five years now, and it really looked no different from the room Ron had spent five years in, except for the obvious pink and purple color scheme that Parvati and Lavender had worked out.  
  
Harry let them wallow in their awkwardness for several minutes, quite honestly because he was a bit pissed off that they were giving themselves reason to be so nervous. Finally, he grew bored and said, "Well, it's almost time for breakfast. We better go down, Ron. Anyway, Hermione needs to get ready."  
  
It was true, Hermione was still very much in her pajamas, and she really needed to get ready. "Okay," she said quickly. "I'll meet you there."  
  
Harry nodded and motioned with his head for Ron to follow him out of the girls' dormitory. Ron did so without further hesitation, and they left Hermione alone in her room. They successfully snuck down the stairwell without getting caught and exited the Common Room silently. Harry was debating whether or not to ask Ron a very personal question as the walked the distance to the Great Hall.  
  
He wanted to know if Ron would admit to liking Hermione.  
  
On one hand, Harry thought that he might. Ron had never lied to him before, and he didn't know why he would start now. On the other hand, though, he and Ron had never really discussed girls before- not seriously anyway. Ron knew that he liked Cho only because he'd admitted that he asked her to the Yule Ball. Harry knew that Ron had a thing for Veelas, but then again, so did every guy who came into contact with one. This would be sort of weird. Back on the first hand, though, they were supposed to be best friends. Didn't that mean they should have some "guy talk" once in awhile? They were fifteen years old after all.  
  
"Ron?" he said, slowing their pace.  
  
Ron looked up at him. "Huh?"  
  
Harry ran everything over in his head quickly. "Um… What do you think the House-Elves made for breakfast?"  
  
*****************************************************  
  
They'd been sitting at the Gryffindor table for awhile, and all three of them were done eating. Thankfully, the awkwardness that Harry was positive would be surrounding Ron and Hermione hadn't lasted through breakfast. They were actually laughing quite loudly at a joke Harry had somehow missed. He was just about to ask what was so funny when a flurry of owls soared into the Great Hall, dropping packages and letters all over the four tables.  
  
Hermione's parents had already sent her presents ahead, of course, but a package dropped onto her lap, nonetheless. It had come from a large owl that Harry recognized immediately. It had been the same owl that had been popping into the Weasleys quite often before they'd returned to school. However, it hadn't shown up at Hogwarts until that day.  
  
It was Viktor Krum's owl.  
  
Hermione looked at the package and then glanced up at Harry and Ron, more specifically at Ron. Her face turned a little pink, but she just gave them a half smile and opened the letter that was attached to the package. She read it quickly and tucked it into the pocket of her robe before picking up the package and leaning down to tuck it into her bag.  
  
"Open it." It was Ron who had spoken. His face wasn't flushed, but it was rather serious. His tone of voice, too, was completely devoid of emotion.  
  
Hermione glanced down at the table. "I'll open it later," she said quietly.  
  
"Let's see what you've got," Ron pressed on. "Let's see what the wonderful Viktor Krum has sent you." The emotionless voice was now laced with a trace of sarcasm.  
  
Hermione looked up at him. "I don't want to open it here," she said calmly.  
  
"Why not?" Ron asked, his voice getting a bit louder. A few people around them looked up. "Want to open your boyfriend's present in private, do you?"  
  
Harry let out a low sigh. He could already tell that this was not going to be pretty.  
  
Hermione's eyes narrowed immediately, and her face flushed- Harry couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or from anger. She struggled to keep her voice calm. "It is none of your business what I want to do," she told him evenly.  
  
Ron let out a derisive laugh. "I guess it isn't, is it? It's not like I'm your best friend or anything."  
  
"Ron, just shut up," Hermione told him finally. It was obvious that she really didn't want to fight with him, but Harry knew that a fight would inevitably be dragged out of her.  
  
Ron ignored her order and continued on. "Just open it. What's there to be embarrassed about? Afraid Viky might have sent something too personal?" He was testing her, and Harry knew she wouldn't back down against him.  
  
"Fine!" she finally exclaimed, loudly enough to draw the attention of several more people around them. She reached back into her bag and withdrew the gift hastily. She unwrapped the present without even looking at it, as she was glaring dangerously across the table at Ron. When the paper was discarded, she finally looked down long enough to open the top of it and pull out the gift.  
  
Her angry expression quickly changed as she saw what she was holding.  
  
It was a silver bracelet much different from the one Ron had given her. Whereas his had been simple and sweet, this one was flashy and expensive, thicker with small diamonds encrusted all the way around it.  
  
All three of them fell silent as the looked at the bracelet in Hermione's hand. Harry saw Ron and Hermione raise their eyes to each other at exactly the same time, and he noticed that neither of them seemed angry anymore. Hermione looked like she wanted to cry, and Ron was wearing an expression that Harry really didn't recognize.  
  
"Wow! Let me see it!" Parvati's voice broke the silence as she reached for the bracelet and grabbed it from Hermione's clutches.  
  
"Hermione, it's gorgeous!" Lavender squealed as she leaned over to examine it with Parvati. "You're so lucky! It must have cost a fortune!"  
  
At this, Ron quickly stood up and left the Great Hall without another word. Harry watched him go and debated whether or not to go after him. He looked back across the table at his other best friend and immediately felt awful for her. Hermione had her face in her hands, and he couldn't tell whether she was actually crying or not.  
  
"Hermione…" he said cautiously.  
  
In response, he got Hermione's head shaking and no glimpse of her face.  
  
Knowing not to press her, he once again debated whether or not to run after Ron. He decided he better because he knew how Ron's temper could flare, and he didn't want it to get him into any trouble since they had classes in a little over an hour.  
  
"I'll see you in class," he said to Hermione, watching as she gave him no reply. Hesitantly, he got up from the table and finally hurried to the door.  
  
It didn't take him long to find Ron, as he was visible through the doors of the lobby. He was sitting on the front steps, and Harry joined him, sitting beside him.  
  
Ron looked up when Harry sat down and then quickly started speaking. His face was already very red, and it seemed to grow an even darker color as he spoke so quickly. "Look, if she sent you out here, then just do me a favor and don't speak to me. I don't want to hear anything that she has to say right now, and if you start telling me a bunch of shit, I'm very likely to punch you."  
  
Harry took all of this in. Would Ron really punch him? Stupid question- of course, he would. Ron would punch anything that wasn't female, and Harry knew this well enough- best friends or not, it didn't matter. "She didn't send me out here," he said carefully.  
  
Ron just looked at him suspiciously. "Then what are you doing?"  
  
What was he supposed to say? "Uh, I just thought that maybe you'd want to… talk… or something…" Okay, so maybe this "guy talk" wasn't all it was cracked up to be.  
  
"Talk about what?" Ron asked incredulously. "I don't want to talk."  
  
"Oh." Harry looked straight ahead. "Um, okay. Well, I guess I'll just…" He got up to leave but was interrupted.  
  
"Why does he have to be so bloody rich?" Ron said loudly.  
  
Harry froze and hastily sat back down. "Er, don't worry about it, Ron." Stupid, stupid. But what the hell was he supposed to say?  
  
Ron just looked at him and shook his head. "I thought she would like the bracelet. I should have been smart enough to realize that her stupid boyfriend would send something better!" He literally spat the word 'boyfriend.'  
  
"She did like it!" Harry said quickly. "I know she does!"  
  
Ron just rolled his eyes. "Yeah, maybe she liked it until she unwrapped a diamond bracelet from Bulgaria that probably cost more than my whole family's house." He was speaking very sarcastically and very bitterly. "I hate being poor." Ron looked down at the steps in front of him as a scowl covered his face.  
  
Harry didn't know what to say. He hated when Ron started talking about his family's financial situation because he never knew what to say, and he always felt guilty for some reason. "Ron, do you like her?" The words were out of his mouth before he even realized he was thinking about asking him.  
  
Ron immediately looked up at his best friend and narrowed her eyes. "What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
Well, he couldn't take it back, so… "Do you like Hermione? I mean like more than a friend?"  
  
Ron's eyes now widened. "Have you lost your mind?"  
  
Harry instantly wished he hadn't asked it in the first place. "Uh… Well, I just thou…"  
  
"Why would you even think that?" Ron wasn't screaming which was a big surprise to even himself.  
  
What could he say? "Well, because… uh, you know… Ginny and the twins and everything…"  
  
"They're stupid," Ron said simply. "No, I don't like her. That's gross!"  
  
"Why is it gross?"  
  
Ron just looked at him as though he really had gone mad. "Because she's… Hermione!"  
  
"But it wouldn't be so bad, would it?" Harry realized he was sounding stupid, but he didn't know what else to say.  
  
"What wouldn't be so bad?" Ron was shaking his head slightly as he spoke, as though Harry wasn't making sense.  
  
"You know… Liking Hermione."  
  
"Why?" Ron asked suddenly. "Do you like her?" Ron's eyes were wide.  
  
"No!" Harry said quickly. "No, I don't! But if you did…" he let his voice trail slightly, "it wouldn't be so bad, would it? I mean, she's really pretty."  
  
Ron shrugged. "So what? So she straightened her hair and put on some lipstick. Big deal. She's still the same person she always was."  
  
"And you liked that person enough to be best friends with her," Harry pointed out.  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "Harry, think about what you're saying. It's Hermione! She's driven me insane for the past five years of my life!"  
  
"And you've done the same thing to her, so don't blame it all on her," Harry said, surprising himself for being so forward.  
  
"Exactly! Why would I like Hermione when I can't even say two words to her without screaming?!" He was extremely close to screaming at the moment.  
  
"Well, I just…"  
  
Ron cut him off. "Look, Harry. Just do yourself a favor and shut up about it. I don't like her." He said this with a very clear sense of finality before standing up and disappearing back into the castle somewhere.  
  
Harry was left on the front stairs rolling his eyes.  
  
  
  
**********************************************  
  
Please leave reviews! I'll try to get the next part out more quickly! Thanks!!! 


	11. Talk Over Transfiguration Homework

A/N: Sorry the update took so long! I've been on vacation. Hope you guys like this, and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter!  
  
Disclaimer: I still don't own them.  
  
***********************  
  
Later that night, Ron found himself leaning over his Transfiguration homework at a table in the corner of the Gryffindor Common Room. Harry was at a Quidditch meeting about the upcoming tryouts, and he wasn't exactly sure where Hermione was. He assumed that she was in the library somewhere, but he didn't actually care too much. They'd gone the entire day without speaking to each other.  
  
Ron actually felt awful about the fight earlier, but he wasn't about to admit that verbally. He could barely admit it mentally. He didn't know why they'd even fought- why couldn't he just have left well enough alone? He'd been doing so good all summer with not causing any unnecessary arguments about Krum. Why the hell did he have to open his mouth today? On her birthday?  
  
He knew the reason.  
  
He was jealous.  
  
Jealous that Krum had sent a better present. Jealous that Krum had more money than he did. Jealous that Krum was Hermione's boyfriend.  
  
Wait.  
  
Well, maybe not jealous that he was her boyfriend, so much. Just that he was taking up her attention maybe. He'd never in his life had anything that was just his, and friends were no exception. He was used to sharing her attention with Harry, but splitting it three ways was just a little too much. Especially when boyfriend sounded so much more important than best friend. Or even worse- one of two best friends.  
  
Damn it.  
  
He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't see Hermione enter the Common Room, and he didn't see her stop and stare at him intently as though she was trying to figure out whether or not to approach him. But he did hear her when she made her decision and joined him at the table.  
  
"What are you working on?"  
  
He looked up to see her smiling nervously at him. She was clutching her bag to her hip and biting on her lower lip nervously. "Transfiguration," he answered quietly.  
  
"Need some help?" she asked almost hopefully. "I already did it; you can look at mine if you want to."  
  
Ron raised an eyebrow at her as she sat down across from him. "You never let me copy your homework."  
  
She shrugged. "Well, you can if you want to."  
  
Ron just shook his head, not at all sure why he was passing up the opportunity. "No, thanks."  
  
There was a moment of silence as Ron looked back down at his book. Finally, Hermione said, "Ron, are you mad at me?"  
  
"No." Ron said the answer simply. He wasn't mad at her- not really anyway.  
  
"Then why haven't you talked to me all day?" she asked, her voice laced with a sense of worry.  
  
Ron looked up at her. "Because I thought you were mad at me."  
  
"I'm not mad at you," she said quickly. "I mean, I got a little angry when you started in on me at breakfast this morning, but I got over it."  
  
Ron shrugged. "Okay."  
  
Hermione sighed. Very quietly, she said, "Thank you for the bracelet. I really love it."  
  
Ron groaned mentally. He shrugged yet again. "Sorry I couldn't afford a diamond encrusted necklace to match it," he said bitterly.  
  
"Ron, stop it." She was looking at him very seriously. "I hate when you say stuff like that."  
  
To this, Ron shrugged yet again. "Then don't listen." He was seemingly very deep into his work, though he hadn't read a new sentence in many minutes. "And don't think you have to wear it just so you won't hurt my feelings. I know Krum gave you a better bracelet."  
  
"But he didn't."  
  
"I'm not stupid, Hermione," he looked up at her over his book. "I know that his was better."  
  
"But it wasn't," she said almost urgently. "I don't care how much they cost. I like the one you gave me better." She was being very serious.  
  
"Why?" Ron couldn't fathom any reason why she would like his better than the incredibly expensive one that Krum had sent.  
  
Hermione once again bit her lower lip; she'd been doing a lot of that lately. "Because," she answered finally, "yours has more meaning."  
  
Now he was confused. "Huh?"  
  
"Look," Hermione looked directly into his eyes as she spoke. "Whenever I see those two bracelets, I'm going to think of the people who sent them to me. When I see the one Viktor sent, I'm going to see a Yule Ball and two weeks spent in Bulgaria. But when I look at the one you gave me, I'm going to see five years of really close friendship," she grinned. "And five years of really loud arguments. The happiest five years of my life. And then later when I look at it, hopefully I'll see many more than just five years of those things." Her voice got steadily softer as she spoke.  
  
Ron didn't know what to say. How the hell she'd ever managed to tell him that, he'd never know because he knew that there was no chance he'd ever be able to tell her something like that. Even if it was true. He agreed with her that the past five years had been the best ever.  
  
After a moment of unsure silence, he finally spoke up just as softly. "Yeah. But when you look at Krum's you're going to see your first boyfriend, and what is more important than that?"  
  
Hermione just wrinkled her forehead a bit. "Ron, Viktor's not my boyfriend."  
  
Whoa. Hold everything. "What?"  
  
Hermione's cinnamon eyes darted around uneasily. "He's not my boyfriend. Why would you think that? I never told you that."  
  
"In Quidditch Center, it said that you were his girlfriend," Ron said a bit too quietly.  
  
"You can't believe everything you read in magazines," she sighed. "Don't you remember Rita Skeeter?"  
  
Ron smiled just a tiny bit. "So, you're really not his girlfriend?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. "No. We're just friends. We're sort of dating, but it's not serious." She was still looking a tad uneasy, but she was relaxing some which was good for her behalf.  
  
Ron didn't know what to say. He was relieved that Krum wasn't her boyfriend, though he really didn't know why. But he was also somewhat nervous now that he knew that Krum had no claim on Hermione. A thought entered his mind that if Krum couldn't claim Hermione then that meant that anybody in the whole school could, and he wasn't about to let someone like Seamus Finnigan make claims like that. And then there was the whole "sort of dating" thing. What did "sort of dating" mean anyway? He decided to ask. "What does sort of dating mean?" Nice round about way of asking, eh?  
  
Hermione's nose twitched slightly; it had a tendency to do that whenever she was uncomfortable. "It's complicated," she finally said, rather quietly.  
  
"Complicated?" Ron raised one eyebrow at her. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Hermione looked down at the table and then finally back up at Ron. "We're best friends, right?"  
  
He nodded, unsure of what she was talking about. "Yeah…"  
  
It was clear that she was extremely anxious and uncomfortable. "Well, I haven't really talked about this with anyone else. I mean, it's not like I'm going to run and tell Parvati and Lavender or anything."  
  
Talk about what? Ron was very confused. "Hermione, what are you talking about?"  
  
She sighed softly. "I think Viktor thinks we're more than we really are. Do you know what I mean?"  
  
"Like what?"  
  
She sighed again. "Well, he is trying to move things to serious way too fast for me, and I can't make him understand that I don't want to be serious with him without hurting his feelings."  
  
"What do you mean trying to move to serious too fast?" Ron asked quickly, his eyes now dancing menacingly. "How exactly is he trying to move too fast?" If Krum had tried anything with her… Ron would kill him with his own hands.  
  
"I don't know…" Hermione glanced around uneasily to make sure no one was listening to them. "I just feel like he's looking for a lot more than I am. I mean, he's older, and he's just more ready for a serious commitment than I am."  
  
"You're not ready for a serious relationship?" Ron was relieved by her statement.  
  
"Well, no," she admitted. "I mean, not with him. I barely know him."  
  
Hmm… There was something to think about.  
  
Hermione continued before Ron could respond. "Don't get me wrong. Viktor is a very nice person, and I do like him a lot. But I don't know… I told you it was complicated."  
  
"You really do like him?" Ron felt something in his stomach drop, and he instantly cursed it.  
  
It was clear that Hermione was growing more and more nervous by the second. "I guess I do. I had a lot of fun with him this summer."  
  
"Oh." Ron looked across the Common Room at something, though he didn't even know what. "Did you ever kiss him?" The words left his mouth more quickly than he could have imagined. He wasn't even aware of the fact that he had been thinking it, and he felt his face begin to burn as he hurriedly averted his eyes even further away from her.  
  
Hermione, too, blushed bright red at the question, and she moved her own eyes away from him just as quickly as he had from her. "Why do you care?" she asked quietly, trying not to let the strain in her voice show through.  
  
"Um," Ron swallowed as he quickly thought up an answer to her questions. "I don't. It's just that… You know, since we're best friends and all… I just thought maybe you'd want to tell me?" The final part of his excuse was more a question than a statement.  
  
"Oh." Hermione was quiet for a long moment, and Ron finally glanced at, nervously awaiting the rest of her answer. She looked up at him just as anxiously and finished. "Well, yeah." Her answer was so quiet, he could barely hear it.  
  
Yeah? She really said yeah? Ron's eyes widened just a little. "You kissed him?" His voice was a little louder than he'd meant.  
  
Hermione quickly darted her eyes around to make sure no one was listening. "Ron, keep your voice down!" she hissed.  
  
"Well, did you?" he demanded.  
  
"Yes." Hermione's voice had dropped so soft by this time that it was barely audible.  
  
Ron was silent for a long while. He really had no idea what to say, and he actually wished he'd never asked the question in the first place. She'd kissed someone already? Oh, hell. Why did he even care anyway? Ron mentally shrugged off the aching in his stomach as too much pudding at dinner. Instead, he decided to get as much information out of her as he could; hey, he was her best friend, right? She'd said so herself. "So, what was it like?" He gave her his absolute best nonchalant voice.  
  
Hermione looked at him a bit strangely but answered his question anyway. "It was sort of weird, actually. I really didn't know what I was doing, and he really did," she finished off-handedly. "I felt kind of stupid."  
  
"Well, that must have been new for you," Ron said, a tad bit more sarcastically than he'd meant to.  
  
Hermione just rolled her eyes. "Well, have you ever kissed anyone?"  
  
Now it was Ron's turn to roll his eyes. "The closest I've ever been to going out with a girl was the Yule Ball, and do you actually think Padma let me kiss her? I think I royally pissed her off that night."  
  
"You royally pissed me off that night," she said sardonically.  
  
"Hermione," he teased gently, "don't swear."  
  
Hermione just rolled her eyes again and reached across the table to playfully punch him in the arm. This caused them both to laugh.  
  
Wow, she was pretty when she laughed. Her eyes flashed so brightly, it was just amazing.  
  
When they're laughter subsided, she just looked at him smiling. "Ron, I'm really glad I have someone I can talk to. You're much better than Parvati and Lavender, trust me."  
  
Ron grinned, too. "Is that supposed to be a compliment? Because I really don't think that's a huge accomplishment."  
  
It was her turn to shrug now. "Well, they're all I have to compare you to besides a couple of girls I used to know in grade school, and I hardly think that discussing which Barbie character was the prettiest is an equal conversation topic to first kisses."  
  
"You played with Barbies?" Ron asked, his eyes widening a bit in disbelief.  
  
Hermione looked at him curiously. "Yeah. So what?"  
  
He snickered quietly. "I just can't picture you ever playing with dolls."  
  
"Well, Ron," Hermione said with a lingering sigh. "I know that it took you over three years to realize I'm a girl, but I figured by now you would have come to terms with the revelation." She was speaking in the most sarcastic voice she could muster.  
  
Well, Ron had news for her. He definitely knew that she was a girl, but he wasn't about to tell her just how much of a revelation that discovery had been for him. And he wasn't about to tell her that he was still reeling from the effects of such a discovery.  
  
"Hermione, I know you're a girl," he said, forcing himself not to blush. "But I still can't picture playing Barbies." His nose wrinkled as he thought up the next part of his statement. "That's such a Ginny thing to do."  
  
"Ginny played with Barbies?"  
  
Ron nodded, a slight smile on his face. "Yeah, Dad used to bring them home to her because she always loved Muggle toys better than Wizard toys. We used to have the corvette and the dream house and the beach set and everything."  
  
Hermione was silent for only a moment before biting her lip to obviously hide a grin. "We? What? You played Barbies, too, Ron?"  
  
Ron turned bright red as he realized his slip. "No! I mean… Well, I had no choice; Mum made me play with Ginny because she was the only girl and had no one else to play with!"  
  
Hermione began to giggle. "Did you play with any other dolls?"  
  
"No!" Ron looked around hurriedly to make sure no one was eavesdropping. "Okay, so I liked her Baby Alive, too, but only because it shit green if you fed it bananas."  
  
Hermione made a face. "That is gross, Ron."  
  
"No, it was totally cool!" he said a bit too excitedly. "Even Fred and George played with that doll!"  
  
Hermione couldn't stop giggling. "Well, don't worry. Pretty soon you'll be able to play dolls with your new little sister."  
  
"It's going to be a new little brother," Ron said determinedly. "Trust me."  
  
Hermione just rolled her eyes, but then smiled across the table at him. "Aren't you excited about the baby?"  
  
In response, Ron rolled his own eyes. "What's there to be excited about? Another sibling to share everything with?"  
  
"Ron, I would love to have a new baby brother or sister!" she said quickly and adamantly.  
  
"Yeah, but you don't have six siblings already," Ron said quite pointedly. "Trust me; if you were in my shoes, you'd feel differently."  
  
"I think it would be fun."  
  
"Well, then you're welcome to be a Weasley any time you choose." Ron shook his head slightly. "It's not as much fun as it's cracked up to be."  
  
Hermione didn't tell him that she wouldn't mind being a Weasley. Instead she just sighed softly. "Well, I can't wait to see the baby. I'm going to your house for Easter, I hope you know."  
  
He just rolled his eyes. "I'd already guessed that you were."  
  
Hermione beamed at him before standing up. "Well, you'd better get back to your homework."  
  
"Hey, Hermione," Ron said quickly just as she started to turn away.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Can I still copy yours?" He smiled at her hopefully, and she just laughed.  
  
"Nope, sorry." She flashed him her own grin.  
  
"Damn," he muttered, glancing back up at her once more. "Oh! And just so you know, Skipper was the prettiest."  
  
Hermione laughed , shaking her head. "Goodnight, Ron." And then she leaned over to kiss him quickly on the cheek before hurrying off in the direction of the girls' dormitory.  
  
And then Ron couldn't concentrate at all.  
  
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I love feedback!!!! 


	12. Divination and the Dark Arts

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter!  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing has changed. I still don't own any of them.  
  
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The smoky air was almost too much for Harry to handle as he sat in the back of the Divination classroom. He lately found himself choosing seats in the back of every classroom instead of just in Potions. It helped him concentrate better or something. He wasn't sure; he just liked it better in the back where he didn't have to deal with all of the sympathetic looks from his teachers and classmates. It seemed as though more whispering than ever before was following him these days, and it was getting highly annoying. Obviously, Ron didn't mind the switch to the back of the rooms; he'd just as well have sat there since first year. And surprisingly enough, Hermione didn't seem to mind, either; of course, she wasn't sitting with him now, as she'd dropped Divination in the middle of their third year. So, Harry sat alone at the back table with Ron gazing over what definitely appeared to be an empty crystal ball.  
  
"Aren't we ever going to be done with crystal gazing?" Ron asked quietly as he held the ball up a bit to the light. "We've been on this since bloody third year!"  
  
Harry rolled his eyes and shrugged, staring into the ball which Ron had replaced on the table. Not seeing anything at all, he glanced up to make sure Professor Trelawney wasn't listening. She was, of course, bent over Parvati and Lavender's table admiring the work they'd laid out for her. "This is the stupidest shit I've ever seen," he agreed in an undertone. "Reckon we might ought to take a page out of Hermione's book and disappear from here?"  
  
Ron laughed quietly. "Was that the best day of her life or what?" he asked, the memory of Hermione throwing her books into her bag and stomping toward the trap door in a great huff entering his mind.  
  
"It was certainly the most entertaining of mine," Harry said, grinning. "First watching her slap Malfoy and then watching her yell at Trelawney and stalk outta here. Yeah, definitely entertaining."  
  
Ron snickered. It really had been a good day for Hermione, though he knew she was just on nerve's end with everything she'd been dealing with at that time. Nonetheless, it served as a great source of pleasure for Ron and Harry.  
  
"My dears, might I inquire what you see in your crystal that amuses you so?" Professor Trelawney was staring down at them through her horn-rimmed glasses.  
  
  
  
Both boys fought down lingering giggles as the rest of the class turned to peer at them. "Um…" Ron struggled not to erupt into loud laughter. "I just saw… I just saw Harry's death!"  
  
Gasps came from the front of the room where Lavender and Parvati were both suddenly very interested in what Ron had to say. Seamus, Dean, and Neville all suddenly appeared to be stifling giggles as well.  
  
"And what, may I ask," said Professor Trelawney suspiciously, "is so amusing about young Harry's death?"  
  
Harry was wondering the same thing and raised an eyebrow at Ron in question.  
  
Ron caught Harry's eye briefly, and the look he was reflected was enough to make him burst into laughter all over again. He quickly looked away and back up at the teacher. "Well, nothing really. Just… Just he slipped on a… banana peeling! And… uh… he slid fifty feet down the corridor where he… uh… crashed into a suit of armor that… um… fell on him!" It was quite possibly the stupidest story ever invented, but it was so stupid that it was actually quite hilarious. All four of the other Gryffindor boys, including Harry, burst into loud laughter, and Ron did his best to look earnestly up at the professor.  
  
Parvati and Lavender shot him nasty glares from behind Trelawney's back, rolling their eyes at him. Professor Trelawney was still peering at the redhead rather curiously. "I do not doubt, Ronald, that you did, in fact, see Harry's demise. However, I am quite sure that you misread the happenings of the dismal event." She reached for the crystal ball and brought it up to her eyes. Gasping loudly, she sat it back down quickly.  
  
"What is it, Professor?" Lavender asked quickly. Her new haircut was growing out some by now, and her hair was no longer frightfully short. It looked alright actually; the short pixie cut suited her.  
  
Trelawney shook her head, shutting her eyes for a moment. "It is too horrible to say," she said quietly.  
  
"Tell me," Harry said quickly. "Tell me exactly how I'm supposed to die."  
  
The teacher looked at him sympathetically. "You poor dear… And how brave of you to readily accept what the fates have in store."  
  
Ron didn't dare look at Harry for fear of erupting into laughter all over again, so he glanced around at his classmates. Dean had his fist pressed over his mouth and was obviously trying very hard not to snicker. Seamus wasn't having as much luck, as he seemed to have been taken over by a fit of, thankfully, silent giggles. Neville, though not exactly looking scared, was looking rather uneasily at the teacher. Parvati's brown eyes were huge with fascination at witnessing a live prediction reading as though she didn't witness one nearly every day. And Lavender was looking at Harry as though she was about to burst into tears at the pure and utter braveness he so possessed.  
  
"My dear," said the teacher softly, "I fear that the end is drawing increasingly near for you, and it is only a matter of time before you will disappear from our number all together."  
  
"Will this be the same matter of time that I had to wait last year? Or will it be the matter of time I waited the year before to die?" Harry was doing a very, very tremendous job of being completely serious as he asked his question.  
  
However, his question sent Dean, Seamus, and Ron into hysterics.  
  
Professor Trelawney rounded on them all sharply. "Laugh now, boys, but you will be mourning quite soon," she said bitterly with a look in Harry's direction. "Get back to your crystal gazing!"  
  
It was not very often that Sybil Trelawney lost her temper, and when she did, it was enough of a shock to shut the entire class up. They all went back to their work, but soon Harry and Ron were engaged in another conversation.  
  
"Hey, did you get things sorted out with Hermione?" Harry asked quietly as they pretended to be extremely interested in their crystal ball.  
  
Ron shrugged, the memory of Harry's confrontation replaying in his mind. He'd tried very hard to ignore the fact that Harry had quite blatantly asked him if he liked Hermione in more than a friendly way. Harry, of all people, should have known how embarrassing that question would be! It was one thing to deal with it from Fred, George, and Ginny, but Ron would have at least thought Harry would have understood enough to keep quiet.  
  
"We talked," he said simply.  
  
"About what?" Harry had abandoned the crystal ball and was attempting to make Ron do the same.  
  
Ron, however, stared intently into the glass and said, "Stuff."  
  
"What stuff?" Harry was now looking very pointedly at his best friend.  
  
Sighing, Ron finally looked up and shot Harry a sharp look. "A bunch of stuff." He said this as though it was the end of the conversation, but Harry didn't seem to agree.  
  
"Stuff like Viktor Krum?"  
  
Ron just stared at Harry and thought about how appealing it would be to land a punch right on the bridge of Harry's nose. Through gritted teeth, he said, "Yes, Krum came up."  
  
"And?" Harry, as though anticipating Ron's sudden need to break his glasses, pushed them up a bit on his nose.  
  
"And what?"  
  
"And what did she say?" Harry looked over to make sure Trelawney was still occupied, and she was.  
  
"She said she used to like Barbies." Ron said this with a simple shrug, hoping to shut Harry up or at least throw him off-course.  
  
"Huh?" It worked enough to make Harry thoroughly confused. "You talked about Barbies?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Why?" Harry asked curiously.  
  
Ron shrugged again. "Well, she mentioned it, and I just thought it was funny." He grinned a little. "I mean, can you imagine Hermione playing with dolls?" He smartly left out the details of his own childhood.  
  
Harry wrinkled his brow. "What does that have to do with Viktor Krum?"  
  
"Did I say it had anything to do with him? You asked me what she said, and I told you she said she used to like Barbies."  
  
Harry just rolled his eyes. "What did she say about Viktor Krum?!"  
  
Ron thought back to the conversation and suddenly felt the need to tell Harry. He wasn't sure why, but something was nagging at him to spill the details. "They're not really going out. Just sort of dating."  
  
"Sort of dating?" Harry looked back at him wonderingly. "What does that mean?"  
  
Ron shrugged yet again. "They're not really serious, but he's trying to be or something like that. I don't know really."  
  
"Anything else?" Harry asked curiously.  
  
"She kissed him." Ron felt a knot form in his stomach as he admitted this verbally.  
  
"What?!" Harry, realizing he was being a bit louder than he meant to be, glanced around quickly to make sure no one was listening. Quieter, he asked the question again. "What?! She kissed him?! And she told you?!"  
  
Ron nodded. "Yeah. And she didn't know what she was doing, so she said she felt stupid."  
  
"Must have been a new feeling." Harry muttered the same thing Ron had said when Hermione had told him. "I can't believe Hermione's already been kissed!"  
  
"Shh!" Ron hissed. "I'm sure she doesn't want the whole fucking school to know! She probably doesn't even want you to know."  
  
"So, what's this?" Harry asked, mildly offended. "You and Hermione start sharing secrets, and I'm not even supposed to know?"  
  
Frowning just a bit, Ron rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm only saying that if she wanted you to know, she'd tell you."  
  
"Well, remind me not to tell you any secrets because you obviously don't know how to keep them very well," Harry said a little too bitterly.  
  
"You asked!" Ron defended himself quickly.  
  
"Look," Harry interrupted. "Let's not fight, okay? I didn't mean to sound so mad. I'm just a bit shocked; that's all."  
  
Ron nodded. He didn't want to fight with Harry, either. "Yeah. I still can't believe she kissed that ugly git."  
  
"How did she get kissed before we did?" Harry asked, a dazed look of shock still on his face.  
  
Ron sighed and shook his head. "I reckon she's prettier than us."  
  
Harry snorted with laughter. "Shut up. Speak for yourself."  
  
"What?" Ron asked, grinning. "You think you're prettier than Hermione? Sorry mate, but I beg to differ."  
  
They both erupted into a fit of giggles, causing the rest of the class to turn and look at them. Professor Trelawney frowned at them.  
  
"What's wrong?" she asked snidely. "Another banana peeling?"  
  
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Hermione rushed down the hallway toward the other Gryffindor fifth years who were waiting outside of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. The Arithmancy room was further away than the Divination room, so it took her a bit longer to meet up with her classmates.  
  
She slid a bit as she neared them and managed to run straight into Dean Thomas who looked up at her and laughed as he prevented her from hitting the floor. "Alright there, Hermione?" he asked, grinning.  
  
Hermione blushed a little and nodded her head quickly. "Yeah, thanks."  
  
Behind her, she heard two familiar snickers. Turning sharply, she shot a sharp glare at her two best friends. "Shut up."  
  
"Ooh," said Ron teasingly. "Touchy, touchy."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes as she walked over to the two boys, slinging her bag over her shoulder as she moved. "Did the great Professor Trelawney give you much homework?"  
  
"Nothing," Harry said, smiling at the way Hermione's face dropped. It was clear that she, too, had gotten off with no homework and was hoping on rubbing it in their faces.  
  
"Well, we didn't get any, either," she said sullenly.  
  
"Hello, there," came Professor Lupin's voice from behind the group. He was smiling at them all, still dressed in his shabby robes. "Well, let's go then. Inside." He unlocked the door and ushered them all into the classroom.  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione were the last three to enter, and Professor Lupin held up a hand to stop them before they went through the door. "Have you heard from your godfather, Harry?" he asked quietly, glancing inside to make sure everyone else was settling down.  
  
Harry shook his head. "Not lately. Why do you ask?"  
  
Lupin's face fell slightly at his answer. Quickly, though, he responded with, "Oh, no reason."  
  
Harry wasn't convinced in the slightest that there was no reason. "What's wrong?"  
  
But the teacher just shook his head. "Nothing's wrong. Now, let's go inside, shall we?"  
  
Harry looked up at him intently, a not-so-nice feeling settling in his stomach. He glanced at Ron and Hermione who were wearing identical expressions to what he was sure his own looked like. Lupin hurried into the class, leaving the three of them to follow slowly.  
  
"What was that about?" Hermione asked in an undertone.  
  
Harry shrugged. "I don't know."  
  
Ron glanced at their professor. "I reckon Lupin knows something he's not telling."  
  
Hermione pinched Ron's arm and shot him a sharp look that clearly said, 'Don't scare him anymore than he already is.' Ron jerked back from her and sent her his own look that clearly said, 'Pinch me again and you'll regret it.'  
  
Harry just rolled his eyes.  
  
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This is a transition chapter. I know nothing big happened, but trust me. Pretty soon we'll see bigger things including the Quidditch tryouts, more bloody noses, a Halloween Ball and much, much more! Please leave feedback!!! 


	13. Falling Off Broomsticks and Puking

A/N: Hey, you guys! Thanks for the feedback from the last chapter. Hope you like this one- it's a little short, but I hope you guys don't mind.  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned the Harry Potter franchise, I would currently be working on getting Book Five out before May of 2003 (which is the most current date I've heard…. Grrrr….) Instead, I have to bide my time writing my own version…  
  
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"If you don't eat anything, you're going to regret it." Hermione was looking very intently at Ron's still-full plate.  
  
Ron turned to her and rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Mum."  
  
Hermione rolled her own eyes. "I'm just looking out for your best interest. You're going to need your strength today, and going to the try- outs on an empty stomach is not going to help you at all."  
  
"He'll be fine," Harry interjected from across the table. "Trust me. Eating isn't good for you if you're just going to puke it all up from nerves."  
  
"I didn't say I was going to puke," Ron said quickly. "I'm just not hungry; that's all."  
  
"Well, I still say it's a pretty stupid move," Hermione said jadedly. "You'll need your strength."  
  
"My strength is just fine," the redhead said resentfully.  
  
"Whatever," Hermione said with a quick roll of the eyes. "Just don't come crying to me when you're so weak you can't give a proper show during the tryouts."  
  
"Don't worry, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, grinning. "I'll take good care of your son and bring him home safe and sound."  
  
Hermione blushed, having briefly thought Harry was calling her 'Mrs. Weasley' for another reason. "Oh, shut up, both of you," she said indignantly, going back to the plate of fruit she was having for her own breakfast.  
  
Ron and Harry were still laughing when another redhead joined their number. "Nervous, Ron?" Ginny asked as she seated herself beside Harry and directly across from her brother. "Why aren't you eating?" she asked as she helped herself to a plate of sausage and scrambled eggs.  
  
Ron gave his sister an exasperated look. "Because I'm not hungry," he said obviously.  
  
"Oh," Ginny said, cutting the sausage into several smaller pieces, "You're going to throw up, are you?"  
  
Ron groaned and kicked his sister under the table, earning a rather loud yelp from her. "No, I am not going to throw up, you stupid, stupid twit."  
  
Ginny glared at the older boy and swiftly returned the kick, seemingly a bit harder than he had kicked her. "I hope you fall off your broomstick."  
  
Harry and Hermione both had to stifle giggles at Ginny's words, and Ron shot them both contemptuous looks. "What's so funny? What? You two want to see me fall off my broom, too?"  
  
Harry continued to snicker, but Hermione tried her best to put on a serious face. "Oh, no, it's not that. It's just…" She couldn't hold in the laughter any longer.  
  
"What the hell is so damn funny?" Ron demanded again.  
  
Hermione tried very hard to stop her laughing. "It's just the way Ginny said it; that's all. She was so… serious." She broke off into another fit of giggles.  
  
Ginny smirked triumphantly from over her glass of pumpkin juice. "Thank you, thank you."  
  
Ron shot his sister a glare. "You're such a brat."  
  
"Once again," Ginny said, smiling, "Thank you, thank you."  
  
"Hey, little brother, nervous about the tryouts?"  
  
Everyone looked up to see the twins settling themselves across from each other, Fred beside Ginny and George beside Ron. Ron groaned as Fred asked his question.  
  
"Would everyone just shut up, please?" he asked loudly. "I'm just fine."  
  
George reached up to ruffle his younger brother's hair affectionately. "Why aren't you eating anything? Afraid you'll puke it all up?"  
  
Ginny, Harry, and Hermione all burst into laughter yet again, and Ron looked ready to murder someone. "Fine!" he said exasperated. "Go ahead and laugh it all up! You'll all feel terrible if I really do vomit!"  
  
This statement caused the twins to join in with the laughing. But Ron didn't find it so funny. Truth be told, he was terribly nervous, and everyone acting so blasé about the whole thing was only serving to make him even more anxious.  
  
"I'll see you guys later," he said suddenly, getting up and gathering his things.  
  
"Where are you going?" Harry asked, cutting his laughter short, afraid that they had really upset Ron.  
  
His friend turned back to him. "I dunno." Then he turned to leave.  
  
"Do you think he's really mad?" Harry asked warily. "We were only kidding."  
  
Ron's siblings all rolled their eyes in unison. George heaved a sigh and said, "So enters the Drama King of the Weasley clan."  
  
"He's fine," Ginny said firmly. "He's just being a baby."  
  
Harry glanced across the table at Hermione and noticed that she wasn't paying attention to the Weasleys. She was watching the door that Ron had just exited and biting her lower lip like she always did when she was nervous.  
  
"Um, I'll see you guys later, too!" she said suddenly, jumping up and hurrying out the door without a backwards glance.  
  
Harry and the others watched her go. Ginny giggled a little, and Fred looked at his twin brother. "Five galleons, they're snogging by Tuesday."  
  
George grinned. "I'll take that bet. There's no way they're going to sort things out anytime soon."  
  
Ginny, too, grinned. "I'll put five galleons on two weeks."  
  
Harry sighed, defeated. Turning to the Weasleys, he said, "Can I get in on that, too?"  
  
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"Ron!" Hermione called down the empty corridor to the back of a tall redheaded figure.  
  
The said figure stopped and turned around, waiting for Hermione to catch up with him. "Hey," he said quietly as she struggled to catch her breath.  
  
When she was finally breathing normal after her run, she looked up at him nervously. "Ron, we weren't being serious. We were just jo…"  
  
"I know," he said sullenly. "I just really am nervous," he admitted, looking over her head.  
  
Hermione smiled up at him reassuringly. "I'd be scared to death! But you're going to do fine, Ron. You're gonna get it; I know it!"  
  
Ron returned a weak smile. "Don't jinx me."  
  
She laughed a little. "Sorry. But it's true. I saw you practicing this summer, and you were great!"  
  
"Thanks," he said, his ears tingeing pink, though he really didn't know why.  
  
Hermione bit her lower lip again. "And don't worry. I don't think you're going to puke or fall off your broom."  
  
Ron laughed. "Thanks."  
  
She just smiled and giggled a little. It seemed as though she'd taken to giggling a lot lately- something she used to rarely do. "Just if you do," she laughed, "make sure you get back up and keep going. There's an old Muggle saying, 'If you fall off the horse, get back up.' Change the horse to broom."  
  
Ron couldn't help but laugh, too. Hermione, with all her "Muggle- knowledge" as she so called it, was never very helpful in situations like this. Times when he needed to calm down. Perhaps, it was because whenever the two of them talked, they usually ended up in terrible arguments, despite the original intents of the conversation. But things were different now, and he'd be the first to admit it. He and Hermione weren't fighting that much anymore, and he wasn't sure when that change had taken place. Sure, they got into occasional arguments, and when those happened it was a sure bet that they would be just as loud and mean-natured as all the earlier fights that had transpired between the two of them, but the occasions of these arguments came much less these days.  
  
"I'll be sure to do that," he said with a smirk, letting her know just how useful her Muggle quote actually was.  
  
And then fifteen year old Hermione promptly turned back into eleven year old Hermione. Hands on hips and a very McGonagall-look on her face. "Don't make fun," she said sternly.  
  
Ron bit his own lower lip to make sure he wouldn't erupt into pent-up laughter. "Oh? Why not?"  
  
"Because," she said with a quick flip of her hair, "I can beat you up."  
  
This did it. Ron started laughing hysterically. "Just try it," he prompted. "Just cause you can kick Malfoy's ass doesn't mean you can kick mine."  
  
"Ron, don't swear," she said habitually. "And anyway, you can't hit me back."  
  
"No," he admitted thoughtfully. "But I can do this." And with that he grabbed her wrists and swung her quickly around to where her back was to him, and she was most definitely stuck. "Try and get out of this one," he said, leaning around her side to look at her.  
  
At the same moment he leaned, Hermione turned her own head, causing their faces to be so close together that it was easy to feel the breath of the other. For a long moment, they stared at each other, both suddenly quite solemn.  
  
Ron couldn't believe what his insides were doing, and he did everything in his power to completely ignore them. This was Hermione. Hermione Granger.  
  
Bushy-haired, buck-toothed, bossy, know-it-all Hermione Granger.  
  
While she was still quite bossy and every bit as much of a know-it-all as she'd ever been, the bushy hair and buck teeth were most definitely no longer in existence.  
  
And when did she get so damn pretty anyway?  
  
Suddenly, though, Ron was jerked out of his reverie as Hermione jerked herself from his arms with a very triumphant, "Ha!"  
  
And with that, she stuck her tongue out at him teasingly and took off running in the opposite direction. Ron, not quite believing what had just happened, shook his head dismissively. There was no way he was going to let her win.  
  
And with that, he took off right after her.  
  
From the other end of the hallway, three redheads and a dark-haired boy with glasses stood watching the events.  
  
Fred cursed loudly when both of the parties they'd been watching took off in a playful game of tag. "Oh, well," he said resignedly. "I've still got two weeks."  
  
George laughed and slapped his brother on the back. "No time soon."  
  
Harry suddenly felt very, very sick.  
  
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I know that this chapter was much shorter than my others, but I needed to stop here. The only place to go in the rest of this chapter would have been the actual Quidditch tryouts, and I honestly don't want to write them. You'll learn the results, of course, but that will be in the next chapter. Good things are coming up very soon!  
  
PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 


	14. We Play What I Want To

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter!!!  
  
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own them yet!  
  
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Ron sat across from his female best friend, studying the chessboard between them very intently. After much coaxing, Hermione had finally given up any hopes she may have had about getting some of her homework completed and given into Ron's incessant pestering to join him for a game of chess. She honestly didn't know why he even wanted to play her anymore; she had never once in five years won a game against him. It actually seemed that as they grew older his chess skills were increasing while hers seemed to be deteriorating. Even Harry, who was relatively skilled in the game, didn't stand a chance against Ron.  
  
She watched while he told his bishop to take out her castle and sighed dejectedly. All of the white chess pieces, her own, that were still standing glared up at her, and she was sure that she heard one of them call her "a senseless dolt." Taking great offense to the comment, she moved the offending piece, one of her own bishops, into the direct path of one of Ron's knights. And when Ron instructed his knight to overtake the bishop, Hermione smiled, satisfied even though she was now losing greatly.  
  
"Ron, how is this interesting to you?" she asked, yawning. "We both knew the outcome of this game before it was even started."  
  
Ron looked up at her and gave her a lopsided grin. "It's interesting because beating you at something never fails to feed my ego. And just so you know, it's very hungry at the moment."  
  
She returned the grin and rolled her eyes into the back of her head. "Well, don't allow me to deny your ego its food."  
  
"Oh, it's never hungry after a game of chess with you," he teased, glancing back down at the board to counter his next move. He gave his pieces instructions and looked back up at her. "Check."  
  
Hermione let out a loud groan and rubbed at her tired eyes. "Ron, I'm sleepy! And you know I can't get out of check anyway!" She was very close to whining.  
  
"Yes, you can. Look, right…" He started to point out the obvious move, but she held a hand in front of his face and stopped him.  
  
"Don't tell me where! Let me find it myself." She was being very stubborn, but she truly doubted if she would be able to find it on her own. Peering at the board, she saw that most of her few standing pieces were standing around looking quite bored. Some of them were even sitting, nodding off even. The few that didn't look bored to tears were glaring at her, obviously still upset at her earlier stupidity. Her king, however, was pointing madly to his left, and Hermione finally found her move. After releasing herself from check, she looked up at Ron and stuck her tongue out. "See? I told you I could find it!"  
  
"Actually," Ron said, his amusement clearly showing on his face, "you said you wouldn't be able to find it…"  
  
"Oh, shut up," Hermione said, realizing he was, in fact, right. Another yawn overtook her, and she started whining for real. "Ron, I'm tired! I want to go to bed!" Her lower lip was barely protruding from her upper one.  
  
"You can't go to bed, 'Mione. We haven't finished the game."  
  
Hermione just stared at him for a second before raising a single eyebrow at him. "Excuse me? Did you just call me 'Mione?"  
  
Ron laughed and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."  
  
"Forget the Her, did you?" she asked, brow still raised.  
  
Ron snickered. "I'm tired, too. Too tired to say the whole thing."  
  
Hermione pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes a bit. "My name is not 'Mione. It is not Herm. It is not Hermy. Or Mio. Or Nee-nee. Or any other little nickname you can come up with. It is Hermione. Four syllables, and I require them all."  
  
Ron smirked. "I get the idea, 'Mione."  
  
This was not funny. "You're just going to call me that to tick me off now, aren't you?"  
  
Ron shrugged, obviously trying not to grin. "I dunno, 'Mione. Maybe."  
  
She groaned. "That is the stupidest name I have ever heard."  
  
"Awe, come on, 'Mione, don't be like that," he said, smiling teasingly at her. "I think it's cute."  
  
"Oh, really?" she asked sarcastically.  
  
Ron nodded. "Yeah. In fact, if I ever have a daughter, I think I'm gonna name her 'Mione." He was obviously doing his very best to annoy her.  
  
It was working.  
  
"Why don't you just name your little sister 'Mione then?" she challenged, both brows raised.  
  
"Because I'll only ever have one sister, and she's already got a name. Albeit, it's the name of an American state, and she's always said she'd rather be named Jennifer… But that's beside the point." He flashed her another grin. "And as for the new baby- 'Mione is a stupid name for a boy."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's a stupid name for anyone. Especially for me." She crossed her arms over her chest and eyed him.  
  
Ron just laughed and started taunting her. "Mione, 'Mione, 'Mione!"  
  
It was time for drastic actions. "Ronald, Ronald, Ronald!"  
  
Ron's laughter ceased, and he narrowed his eyes at her. "Touché."  
  
Hermione nodded, victorious. "Good. Now that we got that sorted out…"  
  
"I'm still going to call you 'Mione," he said quietly, studying the chessboard very conspicuously.  
  
Hermione watched him for a moment before scooting herself onto her knees and leaning across the table. In a whisper to match his own, she said, "Then I'm still going to call you Ronald."  
  
Ron looked up to study the wide chocolate-colored eyes so close to his own. Hermione was on her knees, leaning across the table, with her arms placed strategically on the chessboard so as not to disturb any of the (impatiently) waiting pieces. Her eyes were round, and she was looking at him with the same look she got when she grew tired of arguing with him.  
  
The look of finality.  
  
But just as he never let the look get to him in an argument, he wasn't about to let her get the last word here. Smiling broadly and showing off all of his teeth, he said, "What's wrong, 'Mione? Upset about something?"  
  
Hermione's eyes narrowed, and her lips went into such a thin line that she could have given McGonagall a run for her money. Glaring at him, she promptly sat herself back in the chair and stared at the board before moving her queen to E4 and looking up at Ron long enough to say, quite rudely, "Check."  
  
Ron nearly choked when she said the word. She'd never even gotten so far as to check him before. He quickly turned his attention to the board to see what had happened, and sure enough, her queen had his king in check. Thinking very hardly about his next move, he leaned down to whisper quietly to his pieces. His king moved strategically out of check, and Ron smirked as he said, "Check, yourself, 'Mione."  
  
Hermione groaned, made one final move, and finally heard the word, "Checkmate," coming from her opponent's lips.  
  
She looked up at Ron and shrugged. "Is your ego quite full now?"  
  
"Ah, yes," Ron said, standing up and stretching. "Quite."  
  
Hermione watched him stretch and, not for the first time, marveled at his height. She, too, stood up and arched her back to get some of the creak that had developed during the chess game out.  
  
"So," he said as he cracked his neck to one side. "What do you want to do now?"  
  
"Sleep," she answered decisively. She reached up to cover her mouth which opened in a wide yawn, but Ron caught her hand and dragged her to one of the couches by the fireplace. He pushed her down onto the sofa and sat beside her.  
  
"I already told you that you can't go to sleep."  
  
Hermione took on the whining tone again. "But Ron! I'm really, really sleepy!"  
  
Ron mimicked her whiney voice. "Well, 'Mione, I'm really, really sorry!" He grinned at her and finished in a normal voice. "But you have to stay up with me until the Quidditch team gets back with the results." He stuck his lower lip out and gave her the saddest blue eyes he could manage. "Please?"  
  
Hermione sighed and rolled her own eyes. "That whole puppy-dog thing does not work on me."  
  
"Please?" he asked again, giving her even more of a pitiful look. "Pretty please?"  
  
"Fine!" she said, exasperated. "But if I stay up, you have to play what I want to play."  
  
He grinned at her. "Fair enough. Even though you make it sound like we're seven years old."  
  
"Well, sometimes I do wonder about your real age," Hermione said thoughtfully, earning a gasp of indignant shock from her best friend. But she just smiled brightly and said, "Okay, here's the game. You have to tell me something that you've never told Harry."  
  
Ron looked at her for a moment, curiosity in his eyes, before finally saying, "Well, I never told Harry that I used to play with Barbies."  
  
Hermione laughed, but shook her head. "That doesn't count. It has to be something new."  
  
Ron wrinkled his brow a bit as he pondered the question. He told Harry most everything, certainly more than he told Hermione. But of course there were things he'd kept from both of them. Now to think of a good one… "Um…" And then one popped into his head. "Don't laugh, okay? But I was so scared of the dark when I was little that not only did I need a light but I used to make Ginny come and sleep in my room. And then I'd tell everyone I was protecting her because she was scared of being alone."  
  
Hermione tried not to laugh, but it didn't work. Giggles erupted from her lips, and she had to hide her mouth to prevent the other Gryffindors from looking her way.  
  
"I told you not to laugh!" Ron said, but he was grinning, too. "Fine then," he said with a huff. "Your turn. You have to tell me something that you've never told Harry."  
  
Hermione finally got her giggling under control enough to think up one of her own. Blushing slightly, she said, "Okay, but you have to swear not to tell him."  
  
"I swear."  
  
Hermione nodded and swallowed, a pinkness still tingeing her cheeks. "When I was eleven years old, I used to have a really big crush on him…" Her voice trailed off, and she bit her lower lip.  
  
Ron stared at her. Then, "What?!"  
  
Hermione instantly looked in all directions to make sure that Ron's sudden outburst hadn't drawn the attention of all their housemates. "Be quiet!" she hissed.  
  
But Ron was looking at her, open-mouthed and shocked. "Are you serious?!"  
  
"I was eleven, Ron!" she whispered heatedly. "It was the whole hero thing. My God, it's not that big of a deal!"  
  
"Oh, my God, Hermione!" he said, dropping his voice a good bit but still using just as much shock as before. "I cannot believe you just told me that!"  
  
"You can't tell him!" she said quickly. "You swore!"  
  
"I'm not gonna tell him!" Ron said with a hurried shrug of the shoulders. "I just can't believe you have a crush on Harry!"  
  
Hermione once again glanced around to make sure no one was listening, as Ron wasn't doing such a swell job of keeping quiet any longer. "Had, Ron! Had! I don't still like him!"  
  
"Are you sure?" Ron raised his eyebrows at her as though he didn't quite believe her.  
  
"Are you kidding me?!" Hermione shook her head in shock. "You think I still like him?!"  
  
"Well, I don't know!" Ron's hands flew into the air. "I certainly didn't know you liked him then!"  
  
"That's because we were eleven years old, Ron! Eleven!" She couldn't believe her simple confession had turned into such a big deal. "It was just a stupid crush."  
  
At that moment, the portrait hole swung open. Just as this was happening, Ron said, "I still can't believe you had a crush on Har…"  
  
He didn't get to finish because Hermione swiftly slapped a hand over his mouth and hissed a quick, "Shut up!" at him, her eyes flashing dangerously.  
  
Then she turned to flash an innocent grin at Harry and the rest of the Quidditch team that had just entered the Common Room. "Hi, guys," she said, praying that the flush was now absent from her cheeks.  
  
Ron snorted with from behind her hand, and she slowly removed it, turning only to glare at him warningly.  
  
Harry was staring at them both as though they'd lost their minds. "What's up with you two?" he asked warily.  
  
Hermione's eyes widened in feigned confusion. "What? Nothing's up."  
  
Ron snorted once again. Hermione leaned into him, giving him a good sharp jab in the ribs with her elbow, all the while beaming innocently at Harry.  
  
"Ow!" Ron yelped, shoving Hermione away from him.  
  
She turned to him and put on a fake concerned look. "Oh, I'm sorry, Ron! I didn't realize you were that close!" She placed a hand on his arm in what looked like a soothing manner but quickly gave him a sharp pinch. "Are you alright?"  
  
Ron glared at her and yanked his arm away roughly. "I'm fine, thanks."  
  
Harry just eyed his best friends oddly. "Right," he said slowly.  
  
"If you two are finished," said George loudly. "We have announcements to make." He took it upon himself to stand up on one of the chairs and call loudly to the rest of the room. "Attention! Attention!" he roared as though he was a professor or something. The Common Room quieted as curious heads turned from all direction. Once George was satisfied that he had the needed attention from his housemates, he went on. "My fellow Quidditch players and I have reached a few decisions that we would like to share with the rest of you. First of all, I would personally like to congratulate our new captain, the beautiful Miss Alicia Spinnet!" He flashed her a grin and motioned for her to join him. "Everyone congratulate our new leader."  
  
The whole thing was being conducted so formally that it was amusing. Hermione laughed with the others and clapped for Alicia. She silently thanked God that the team had enough sense not to appoint one of the twins captain because if that had been the case, Gryffindor would have been royally screwed.  
  
Alicia rolled her eyes. "Well, thank you, Mr. Weasley," she said sarcastically. "But we seriously have announcements to make," she told the rest of the house. "As I'm sure you all know, we held tryouts earlier today for the positions of keeper and chaser, and they went really well. Everyone who tried out has talent, but unfortunately, there are only two open spots on the team. So, my teammates and I would like to welcome Josh Brenner as a chaser and Ron Weasley as the keeper." She beamed at the two new teammates.  
  
Hermione, momentarily forgetting that she was currently angry with her redheaded best friend, turned to him and instantly threw her arms around his neck. "You did it! I knew you would!"  
  
Harry looked away from his best friends and across the room to catch Ginny's eye. She looked at Ron and Hermione and rolled her eyes in Harry's direction.  
  
Fred laughed and leaned down to whisper in Harry's ear. "I'm still keeping my money on Tuesday."  
  
Harry sighed and walked the short distance to join his best friends. "Congratulations, Ron," he said from around Hermione's back. He watched as Hermione finally untangled herself from Ron's neck and turned to smile at him.  
  
Ron grinned, too. "Thanks!"  
  
Just then, Ginny planted herself on the armrest beside Ron and patted his head. "Mummy will be proud."  
  
Ron ducked from her hand and reached up to smooth his hair. "Thank you, Virginia."  
  
Ginny just rolled her eyes and reached up to pinch one of Ron's cheeks. "Don't mention it, Ronald."  
  
Hermione glanced around to see where the twins were, but she saw them both smiling flirtatiously at Alicia Spinnet and knew they wouldn't be over to congratulate their little brother anytime soon. Seamus, Dean, and Neville made their way over, though. She half-listened as they gave their own congratulations, but she was mainly looking at Harry.  
  
It definitely looked like something was bothering him.  
  
Scooting over closer to him and allowing Dean to slide between her and Ron, she said, "What's wrong, Harry?"  
  
He just shook his head. "Nothing's wrong."  
  
Quietly, she said, "Is your scar hurting?"  
  
"No, it's nothing," Harry said again.  
  
But Hermione knew him too well to believe that. "Harry, if something's wrong, you should tell someone."  
  
"I said nothing's wrong, Hermione!" he said, a little more heated than he had meant to. "Sorry," he said quickly, noticing the shocked look on her face. "But I'm fine. Really."  
  
She frowned. "You're worried about Sirius, aren't you?"  
  
Harry was a bit worried about his godfather. He made a mental note to write to him later that night after he'd gone to bed. But it wasn't really Sirius that was bothering him.  
  
It was Ron and Hermione.  
  
He didn't particularly like the idea of them cozying up together and leaving him out. He knew that it was stupid, that he should be happy for them when and if they got together. But it was still hard. They were supposed to be a trio.  
  
And a trio meant three. Not two with one on the side.  
  
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Wow! I'm posting fast, huh? More good stuff soon! I'd love reviews!!! 


	15. Binns, Balls, and Broomsticks

A/N: Thanks for all the responses to the last chapter! In reply to one question, NO THIS IS NOT GOING TO TURN INTO A HARRY/HERMIONE STORY!!!! LOL, I would never, EVER write anything where Harry and Hermione were together like that! The thought of them romantically involved makes me physically ill. Ick!  
  
Disclaimer: A genie came and granted me three wishes. After bigger boobs and world peace, I wished to own the Harry Potter franchise. So, now I do... If you believe that, seek professional help.  
  
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Harry sat in History of Magic only half-listening to Professor Binns. Okay, half-listening was an exaggeration. He was probably more like a quarter listening. He was pretty sure that the topic was the fourteenth Minister of Magic, but he couldn't be quite sure. He glanced around at his classmates and was not surprised in the least by the view. In the front of the class, Parvati was clearly holding a tiny mirror under the table and checking her make-up. Dean Thomas was doodling something on a piece of loose parchment, and Harry could strain his eyes and head just enough to see that it was quite obviously a picture of two surprisingly well-drawn, though not exactly nicely, Professors, Snape and McGonagall clearly, in a tight and rather gut-wrenching embrace. He snickered loudly, and Dean, obviously having heard him, turned around and grinned wickedly before poking a lightly snoring Seamus and showing off his masterpiece. Seamus luckily turned his laughter into a cough before Professor Binns could get suspicious. Harry turned to look at his own best friends and was not surprised by that view, either. Ron had one elbow perched on the table and was leaning his forehead into its hand, cleverly shielding his very closed eyes from the teacher. And Hermione, of course, was sitting up intently, the only person in the class taking notes on the lecture.  
  
He glanced down at her notes and nodded, satisfied with himself that he had at least gotten the topic of the lecture correct. It was, in fact, the fourteenth Minister of Magic.  
  
She obviously felt his gaze and momentarily turned her attention away from Binns to look at him curiously. She glanced down at his own empty parchment and then back up at him, shaking her head disappointedly. Harry shrugged and jerked his head in the direction of Ron who was on the other side of Hermione. This caused her to look at their redheaded best friend and sigh rather loudly. Harry had to fight down a laugh when an exasperated Hermione used her own elbow to knock the one of Ron's that was perched on the table. This, of course, caused his head to hit the desk at full-force. He jerked back up, now fully awake, and stared around him in a moment of "just awaken confusion." It didn't take him long to figure out exactly what had happened, though, and he glared at Hermione dangerously.  
  
She smirked superiorly at him in response.  
  
Ron glared for only a second more before a smile of his own covered his face. With a quick movement, he reached for her three pages of notes and jerked them out from her, holding them on his other side so that she couldn't reach them without actually getting up from her chair.  
  
"Give them back," she hissed in a dangerously-toned whisper.  
  
Ron just continued to smirk and shook his head.  
  
Hermione looked around for only a second before deciding her course of action. With the air of someone who was not about to be lowered to a petty argument, she raised deftly raised her hand into the air.  
  
"What? You're going to tattle on me?" Ron rolled his eyes.  
  
Hermione feigned deafness and continued to wait patiently for her hand to be noticed.  
  
Ron let out a disgusted sound and slumped into his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. Still, though, not returning the notes.  
  
It took several more moments for Professor Binns to recognize the fact that someone was waiting to ask him a question, as it was a very rare occurrence in his classes.  
  
"Yes, Miss Gladstone?"  
  
Hermione put her hand down. "Granger, sir."  
  
Professor Binns nodded. "Yes, Miss Granger?"  
  
"I was just wondering if you wouldn't mind repeating the last chapter. My notes seem to have disappeared."  
  
The effects of her words suddenly jerked the attention of every single student in the classroom. They all rounded on her and shot her looks more deathly than any Harry could remember getting from Voldemort. Harry made a personal note to kill Ron as soon as they were out of view of the teachers.  
  
He leaned around Hermione to let his best friend know his intentions. "You are so dead," he warned through clenched teeth.  
  
Ron looked at him, sighed angrily, and finally shoved the papers back at Hermione.  
  
Professor Binns was just starting to tell about the birth of the aforementioned Minister when Hermione raised her hand again.  
  
"Yes, Miss Green?"  
  
Ignoring the mistake, Hermione smiled respectively. "I've just found my notes. But thank you for offering." She flashed him another "teacher's pet" smile.  
  
Luckily, the bell rang only three minutes later.  
  
Harry stood up with the rest of his classmates, several of whom were still shooting Hermione death-glares for the simple suggestion that Professor Binns repeat a lesson, and gathered his books. He walked around Hermione, who always took longer than him to pack up, and stood beside Ron. "You were thisclose to getting killed."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes and stood up, swiping his bag over the table and, probably not-so-accidentally, knocking Hermione's box of quills off the table. She shot him a glare which he feigned blindness to as he turned his back and walked out of the room.  
  
Harry was momentarily torn between joining Ron and waiting for Hermione to finish packing up. He thought it would be rude to leave her, but in all honesty, he'd rather spend his time with Ron if the two of them were going to launch into another silent treatment episode.  
  
Which it definitely looked like could be the case.  
  
Hermione looked up at him and as if she could read his mind, she said, "Go on with Ron," with a roll of her eyes.  
  
Harry looked at her, wondering if he should stay anyway, but when Hermione shooed him away with her hands, he gave her a small grin and hurried out of the room after Ron. The redhead in question hadn't gotten too far and was currently talking with Seamus, Dean, and Neville. Harry joined them and found that they were talking about Ron's new position on the Quidditch team.  
  
"When's the first match?" Seamus asked the question to Harry. It was clear that he had already posed the question, and none of the others knew the answer.  
  
Harry thought for a minute. "Um... The third weekend of October. It's against Slytherin. I think Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw have a match the week before that."  
  
The other four boys nodded as they made their way up to the Great Hall for lunch. As they seated themselves at the table, Harry glanced around and saw Hermione lagging through the door. She walked over and sat herself in her normal seat across from Harry and beside Ron, though she didn't speak to either of them.  
  
She helped herself to some of the spaghetti noodles in front of her, though she skipped the meat sauce, and two pieces of garlic bread. Ron and Harry stared at her, as though waiting for her to say something nasty about having to pick up the box of spilled quills. She didn't, though. She just ate her meal silently, seemingly ignoring everyone around her.  
  
Harry and Ron took to eating, too, but finally Ron put his fork down and turned to her. "What? You're not going to chew me out?"  
  
Hermione looked at him for a second before turning back to her lunch and saying, "No," in a very calmed voice.  
  
Ron continued to stare at the side of her face until she finally turned to look at him again. "Why are you staring at me?"  
  
Ron didn't stop staring. Instead, he just cocked his head to one side and said, "I'm trying to remember everything about this moment. It's the first time you've ever willingly passed up a chance to bless me out."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Trust me. It is not the first time I've passed up the chance; it's probably just the first time you've noticed."  
  
Harry gave a quick laugh but quieted quickly when Ron sent him a warning glare.  
  
"Excuse me, then," he said sarcastically, turning back to his own plate of food.  
  
Hermione sighed softly and shook her head. It was clear that she thought Ron had been punished enough by nearly having to listen to a repeat of Professor Binns' lesson. Harry, personally, couldn't think of too many worse punishments. Well, anything having to do with Snape might be considered worse, but...  
  
"Your attention please!" A loud voice echoed through the Great Hall, and Harry looked up to see Professor Dumbledore standing at the head table, obviously ready to make an announcement.  
  
When the hall quieted, he continued, "With the success of the Yule Ball from last year, the staff and I have decided to arrange another ball." An excited murmur went through the hall. Harry felt himself get nervous at the mere thought of another ball; the last one had been disastrous. "As you all know, Halloween is a very important time to us here at Hogwarts, so this year, we will hold a ball here, in the Great Hall, following the Halloween feast. More information will be made available to you at a later time, but I hope that you will all get excited for what is sure to be a lovely time for us all." He sat back down, and the Great Hall immediately filled with excitement.  
  
Harry didn't feel excited at all.  
  
He remembered how humiliating it had been trying to get a date the previous year. Memories of spending an awkward evening with Parvati Patil filled his mind, and he knew that he could just as well have dealt fine if balls were forever banned at Hogwarts. He glanced across the table at Ron who looked just as sick as he felt.  
  
"This is great," the redhead moaned sarcastically. "This one will probably be even worse than last year!"  
  
Harry was inclined to agree with him, and he was just about to say so when Hermione rolled her eyes and spoke up. "If you two hadn't been so picky last year, you might have had a better time."  
  
"Spare the lecture, Hermione," Ron said sharply. "I forgot that you have nothing but lovely memories of that blessed event." Sarcasm flowed from his lips like water from a faucet.  
  
But Hermione just looked at him and flipped her hair. "I did have a nice time; thank you. It's not my fault that the two of you chose to spend the evening moping. You caused yourselves to have lousy experiences."  
  
Harry reckoned that she was right, but there was no way in hell he was about to admit to this. Instead, he agreed with Ron and said, "Really, Hermione. For real- spare the lecture."  
  
Hermione looked at him, obviously a bit shocked at his forthrightness. He had always been rather polite to her, never really speaking out against her like that, and it was clear that it surprised her. "I am only stating the truth."  
  
It was clear that Ron was about to say something else, but he was cut short by the appearance of a fourth year Ravenclaw that Harry knew by sight but had never spoken to. They all looked up at her questioningly,  
  
She smiled at them and focused her attention on Harry. "Hi, Harry," she said sweetly. She was very pretty with blonde hair that was pulled into two low plaits and rather large blue eyes.  
  
He looked up at her, not quite sure what to do. Awkwardly, he said, "Hi..."  
  
"I'm Emily Mayfield. I'm in Ravenclaw." She smiled again.  
  
Harry managed a weak smile back and said, "Uh... I'm Harry Potter. I'm in Gryffindor..."  
  
She laughed loudly and took the opportunity to seat herself in the empty spot beside him. "I know!" Still grinning, she continued. "I was just wondering if you had a date to the ball yet."  
  
Harry heard Ron snicker from across the table and felt himself blushing slightly. "Um, it was only announced two minutes ago..."  
  
Obviously taking this as a no, she said, "Well, good!" Flipping one of the braids behind her shoulder, she continued, "I don't have a date either."  
  
And then she sat there staring at him, smiling, and acting as though this was supposed to mean something to him. He eyed her and said, "Okay..."  
  
"So, if you wanted to ask me, I'll probably still be available for the next few days." She grinned once more, and Harry took in two rows of perfect teeth.  
  
Harry didn't know what to say. So, he just stuck with, "Okay..."  
  
She flashed him one more quick smile before getting up and returning to the Ravenclaw table.  
  
Harry instantly heard Ron burst into a fit of laughter, and he turned to survey his best friends. It was clear that Ron found the whole thing quite amusing, and even Hermione looked to be entertained by the show. She was resting her elbows on the table and had both hands covering her mouth as she quite obviously tried her best to stifle laughter.  
  
"It isn't funny," he hissed at them, the blush still burning in his cheeks.  
  
"Oh, yes, my friend, it is very funny," Ron said, still laughing.  
  
Hermione removed her hands and took a deep breath; it was clear that she was trying to rid herself of the pent up laughter. "She was very pretty, Harry," she finally managed to say, though it was obvious that she was fighting down giggles the entire time.  
  
Harry looked past them at the Ravenclaw table. He saw Emily Mayfield staring at him, still smiling, and he quickly looked away embarrassed. His gaze then fell a few seats away on a very pretty dark-haired girl.  
  
Cho Chang.  
  
She was the seeker for the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, and she'd been the object of his affection for three years now, but she'd never done more than smile at him in a friendly manner. But what did he expect? She was older than him, very beautiful, and quite popular. Of course, she didn't look at him the same way that he looked at her. When he had finally swallowed his pride long enough to ask her to the ball last year, she'd told him she already had a date.  
  
It was humiliating.  
  
And perhaps that was why she looked so sad at the moment. The date that she had was Cedric Diggory, the person who, of course, had fallen to Voldemort at the end of the last year. Cho had liked Cedric very much, and it had been awful for her when he died. Thinking of another ball probably brought back up memories for her that she didn't want to relive.  
  
Harry wasn't going to bother asking her this year.  
  
He knew that seeing him would only make Cho think of Cedric, as he'd been, inadvertently, the cause of Cedric's death. Seeing Cho would only serve to remind Harry of Cedric and the horrible events they'd gone through together.  
  
He wasn't going to subject either of them to that torture.  
  
"Are you going to ask her?" Ron's question jerked Harry out of his momentary reverie, and he quickly turned his attention away from the Ravenclaw table and back to the Gryffindor one.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Miss Emily Mayfield," Ron said, grinning. "Are you going to ask her to the ball?"  
  
"I don't even know her," Harry said with a look of confusion.  
  
Ron shrugged. "Well, better to get a date early; that way..."  
  
He was cut off by Hermione finishing for him. "You won't get stuck with a troll." The bitterness in her voice told Harry that she hadn't quite gotten past the events leading up to last year's ball, either. In all honesty, he and Ron had been rather rude and inconsiderate of her feelings the year before, going on about how they would rather go alone than with an ugly girl and then treating her as if she was on reserve for them when they were both dateless so close to the ball.  
  
Ron looked down at the table, and it was clear to Harry that he felt bad about the way they had treated her. He knew, however, that Ron had never apologized to Hermione about anything, and he was sure that he wasn't about to start then.  
  
As if the goddess of awkward moments was smiling down on them, a flurry of owls overhead alerted all of their attention as the afternoon post arrived. Harry looked around hopefully for Hedwig. She'd taken a letter to Sirius for him a few nights ago, and he was eagerly awaiting the response. And yes! He spotted the white owl, and a wave of relief washed over him.  
  
But Hedwig was carrying a rather long, thin box. She dropped parcel in front of Harry and perched on the back of his seat. Confused, Harry stroked the bird affectionately and absently held a piece of bread up for her to nibble as he took the letter from atop the package and read it.  
  
'Dear Harry,  
  
Don't worry, I'm fine. You can tell Remus to quit his worrying, too. I'm glad to hear that you're doing well. It had been awhile since I'd heard from you, and I was having trouble tracking down a bird to carry a letter for me. Write me if you have any problems, or if anything out of the ordinary happens. Though I may not be able to write you directly, I can always send a response if you send Hedwig. Hope you're having a good year so far.  
  
-Sirius  
  
PS- This package is for Ron. It's to make up for the broken leg I gave him... Tell him congratulations on making the team, too.'  
  
Harry looked up curiously at his freckled best friend. "Sirius said the package is for you."  
  
"Me?" Ron wrinkled his brow in confusion, but Harry just shrugged.  
  
"He said it's to make up for the broken leg."  
  
Ron looked at him puzzled for a moment more before taking the paper off of the package and sliding the top of the box off. Inside was a shiny new Firebolt, identical to Harry's minus the scratches his had received with wear. The widening of his own eyes was nothing compared to the expression on Ron's face. His eyes were huge with shock, and he was staring at the broomstick as though he'd just been treated to a Divine vision.  
  
"Holy shit," he breathed, reaching out to run a hand down the wood of the broomstick lightly, as though afraid to touch it. He didn't seem to be able to form any other coherent thoughts, so he just sat there speechless.  
  
Harry finally managed to form something of coherence himself and said, "Oh yeah... He said congratulations on making the team..."  
  
Hermione was smiling wildly, though. "Ron, you're going to be great on this!" She grinned from Ron to Harry and then back again. "You two are going to be brilliant together!"  
  
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So? A little short, but I've got the next couple of bits already written. My favorite chapter ever is coming up pretty soon, so I'd love some feedback!!!!! ( 


	16. Dates Are a Pain

A/N: Thanks to all the people who gave me feedback from the last chapter! You guys are the best! (  
  
Disclaimer: Nope, still haven't managed to get my hands on the rights...  
  
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"I can't believe we have to go through this again," Ron muttered to Harry as they eyed a group of giggling girls hurrying down the hallway and looking back in their direction, erupting into even more giggles.  
  
Harry sighed. "Yeah, I know. You would think the professors would at least have some sort of sympathy on us."  
  
"No shit." Ron rolled his eyes. "But from the way Dumbledore talked, you'd think that people actually enjoyed themselves last year."  
  
"Well, I guess a lot of people did," Harry said, shrugging. "I mean, Seamus and Lavender certainly had a good time."  
  
They both snickered remembering how Seamus had come back and given them a play by play of the "goodnight" he'd said with Lavender the year before. Of course, Seamus and Lavender were long over- probably because Seamus couldn't seem to make himself stop staring at every other (well, almost every other- there were the Eloise Midgens and Millicent Bulstrodes that didn't count) female in the school.  
  
"Yeah, can't you imagine how jealous Parvati was when Lavender filled her in?" Ron was grinning slyly at Harry who rolled his eyes at the redhead.  
  
"I think Parvati had a fine time without me," he said sharply. "Padma certainly seemed to handling things just fine on her own."  
  
Harry had, in a last attempt to secure himself a date the year before, managed to talk Parvati Patil into accompanying him and even managed to get Ron a date with Parvati's identical twin Padma. Of course, he was sure that the Patil twins would think long and hard before ever agreeing to go out with them again, as the night had been completely awful until the twins had abandoned Harry and Ron for some guys from a different school.  
  
Ron shrugged. Then he smiled in a way that Harry didn't like too much. "You know what? Padma sure was cozying up to me at the end of last year... Maybe I'll go with her again."  
  
He seemed quite full of himself and completely sure that Padma would accept his offer with no question. Harry, somehow, didn't think it was going to happen.  
  
"What about Hermione?" he asked, quickly sneaking a glance around to make sure no one was lagging close enough to them in the corridor to overhear their conversation.  
  
Ron turned his head and met Harry's eye; Harry could see a faint blush coloring his pale face. "What about her? She'll probably owl Mr. Krum to accompany her." He said the name 'Mr. Krum' in a rather biting fashion, wrinkling his eyes as the words escaped his lips.  
  
Harry decided to comment anymore on the topic. He started to say something about that night's upcoming Quidditch practice, but he was cut short when Ron pointed ahead of them at something.  
  
"Speaking of 'Mione. There she is."  
  
Harry stopped short. He was silent for a moment before snickering loudly. "Did you just call her 'Mione?"  
  
Ron stopped and turned around, confused for only a second before erupting into his own laughter. "Oh, yeah! She hates it! Bugs the shit out of her!" He glanced in the direction of their female best friend who was approaching them quickly. "Call her that and see what she does," Ron whispered to Harry just as Hermione joined them.  
  
"Hey, guys!" she said brightly.  
  
Harry fought down a laugh and managed to say, "Hey, 'Mione."  
  
Hermione's smile faded as she stared at Harry. Then her gaze fell on Ron, and she glared at him. "Hello, Ronald," she said bitingly. Turning to Harry, she said, "Hello, Harold."  
  
Harry couldn't hold back the laughter at that. "That's not even my real name."  
  
But Hermione pointed a finger in his face and said quite haughtily. "It could be for all you know, so shut up."  
  
Harry smirked at her and reached for the finger she had placed in his face. He lowered her hand and said, "Okay, 'Mione."  
  
Hermione threw both hands into the air and let out an exasperated, "Eurgh! I can barely deal with one of you, much less two!"  
  
Both boys started to laugh but quickly stopped as a group of about five girls stopped very close to them, giggling loudly. Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched them curiously as two of the girls extracted themselves from the group and joined the trio.  
  
One of the girls was Emily Mayfield, and the other one was another fourth year that they all knew by sight but had never spoken to. She, too, was very pretty, with long silky black hair, almond colored eyes, and coffee- colored skin. Both girls were showing off perfect smiles as they stopped beside the three friends.  
  
"Hi, Harry," Emily said brightly. Her hair was down now, no longer in the plaits, and it fell almost to her waist in smooth waves.  
  
Harry glanced at the floor, feeling himself blush again. "Uh, hey."  
  
"I still don't have a date," Emily told him pointedly.  
  
Harry didn't know what that was supposed to mean to him, so he just said, "Er... Okay."  
  
Emily smiled once again; she had to be the smilingest person on the face of the planet. With that, she turned her attention to Harry's best friend. "You're Ron, right?" she asked with another quick grin.  
  
Ron looked slightly taken aback that she had addressed him, but he managed to nod. "Yeah."  
  
Emily motioned in the direction of her friend. "This is Valerie Priers." Harry watched as Valerie shot Ron a smile to rival Emily's.  
  
Ron managed to return it, though it was clear he was a little uncomfortable. "Hi, Valerie..."  
  
Valerie grinned. "Hi!" Okay, she was a very perky person.  
  
Emily took it upon herself to continue the conversation. "Do you have a date for the ball, Ron?"  
  
Harry chanced a glance at Hermione who was suddenly looking anything but amused.  
  
"Um..." Ron swallowed and shook his head. "No..."  
  
"Good!" Emily seemed quite pleased by his response. "Valerie doesn't, either! So, she'll probably be around, I'm sure available, for at least the next few days."  
  
Valerie was smiling at Ron in a way that could have put Emily Mayfield to shame. Ron was now blushing a dark pink as he nodded quickly and said, "Er... Okay."  
  
This was the obviously the breaking point for Hermione. She let out a very loud sound of disgust and said, "Don't you girls have anything better to do than stand around and giggle?!" She was directing the question to the group of Valerie and Emily's friends, but Harry didn't miss how her glare turned sharply to Valerie at the end of her question.  
  
Everyone stood staring at her in shock. It was clear that Ron had no idea what to say to her sudden rudeness, and the group of friends looked just as shocked as Harry felt. It was Emily who finally spoke.  
  
"Look, I don't know who you think you are, but just because your two best friends don't want to date you doesn't mean you have to get all pissy." She said this in a tone completely different chipper one she usually used. In fact, she sounded downright nasty.  
  
Hermione just stared at her silently for a second before retorting in an equally nasty tone. "Well, they certainly don't want to date you. But I guess you can't get that through your thick skull. Perhaps the bleaching spell you use on your hair seeped through to your brain." Hermione placed both hands on her hips and stared at the other girl, daring her to say something else.  
  
Ron and Harry were both quite shocked. Stunned silent, in fact.  
  
Emily let out a huge gasp of surprise, and it was quite clear she wasn't able to come up with a comeback quick enough. Valerie, however, stepped forward and straight into Hermione's view.  
  
"Don't you even..."  
  
She was cut off by Hermione throwing a hand up to stop her. "I don't believe anyone said anything to you, Miss Valerie," she literally spat the word 'Valerie.' "So, kindly keep your nose in your own business."  
  
Valerie, though, was certainly not going to keep her nose in her own business. Smiling sarcastically, she cocked her head to one side and said, "Aren't you a Mudblood?" in what was a very sweet-toned voice, however phony it might have been.  
  
She had, of course, said the wrong thing, and Ron suddenly spoke up. "Don't you talk to her like that!"  
  
Hermione turned to Ron only briefly before pulling him back by his arm and saying, "Ron, just shut up." Ron looked at her, confusion on his face, but he shut up nonetheless. Hermione kept speaking. "Yes, I am Muggle-born," in a tone that showed she was proud of the fact. Then with a sweet and phony voice to match Valerie's she said, "And what are you? A Slytherin reject?"  
  
Perhaps Valerie had been counting on being sorted into Slytherin and had been denied that fact, and was still holding bitterness about the situation. Perhaps she didn't appreciate being called a reject. Whatever the cause, Hermione's last sentence obviously sent her over the edge, and before any of them knew what was happening, Valerie's fist was making direct contact with Hermione's nose.  
  
Hermione gasped with the initial shock and quickly clapped a hand to her nose, Harry assumed to stop the blood.  
  
Harry felt an anger like no other taking over him. It was one thing to mess with him, and he could even keep himself under control when someone messed with Ron. But to mess with Hermione was just not acceptable.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?!" he found himself exclaiming at Valerie as he saw Ron immediately dart forward and grab Hermione.  
  
The fourth year Ravenclaws obviously all found this funny, as their giggling had turned abruptly into laughing. Harry could see Ron holding Hermione's shoulders, obviously coaxing her to let him have a look at the nose, but she was shaking her head.  
  
"What's the matter?" Valerie asked snidely. "Aren't you going to fight back?"  
  
It was wrong to taunt Hermione, as she'd never been one to back down from a challenge. She made an instant move to attack the fourth year, but Ron luckily still had a grasp on her shoulders and held her back. "No, Hermione!" he said quickly. "You know you'll get into real trouble this time!"  
  
Harry wished that Valerie wasn't a girl because he still had a clean slate on the fighting scale for the year, and he would honestly have liked to knock the shit out of the girl. He wanted to yell a few choice words at the group of girls, but he noticed Ron dragging Hermione down the hall, obviously away from the group, and he didn't have time to do anything except glare at the whole lot of them before hurrying off after his best friends.  
  
He saw Ron lead Hermione into a classroom, which was undoubtedly empty, as the school day was over. He started to join them but stopped short when he realized he was able to glimpse them through a crack they had left in the half-open door.  
  
What he saw he didn't like at all.  
  
Hermione was still clutching her nose, but had, at some point, obviously broken down into tears because she was whimpering loudly. Ron was still holding her shoulders and, from the looks of it, terrified beyond belief.  
  
"Calm down," he urged quietly. "Let me see your nose."  
  
But Hermione just shook her head rapidly and continued whimpering.  
  
Ron kept one hand on her shoulder and used his other to raise her chin up to look at him. Just as quietly, he said, "Please."  
  
But Hermione started crying even harder, and Harry could see that she was practically trembling.  
  
"Hermione, you have to let me see it," he said gently. "Come on." He reached for the hands she had clamped over her face, and surprisingly enough, she allowed him to remove them.  
  
Harry gasped at the sight. Hermione's entire face from her nose to her chin was covered in thick red liquid. Obviously, Valerie Priers was a very good fighter; it looked like she had really hurt Hermione with that one hit.  
  
Ron looked shocked for a minute, but he forced himself not to make too big of a deal out of it- probably so Hermione wouldn't freak anymore than she already was. Instead, Ron placed a hand very carefully to her lips and brushed away some of the blood, so she could speak without inhaling it. Harry saw that when Ron's hands made contact with Hermione's mouth, that neither of them moved for a second before Ron gently raised her chin again.  
  
"Are you okay?" He was using a gentle, calming voice that Harry wasn't even aware Ron possessed.  
  
Hermione had stopped whimpering, but tears were still falling from her cheeks. She shook her head slowly and barely whispered, "It really hurts."  
  
Ron nodded. "I know." Then he said, "We should get you to Madame Pomfrey; she'll be able to fix it."  
  
But Hermione shook her head much more rapidly this time. "No! I'll get in trouble!"  
  
"No, you won't," Ron squeezed her shoulder gently. "You didn't do anything; that girl just hit you. And anyway, there weren't any teachers around, and you know Madame Pomfrey doesn't ask questions."  
  
Harry ducked out of sight just in time to see his two best friends emerging from the classroom, Ron's arm protectively around Hermione's shoulder as she bent her head to hide the mess on her face from view.  
  
It was at this time that Harry heard a loud group of talking and laughing coming from the opposite direction. He turned to see Emily, Valerie, and their Ravenclaw friends marching proudly down the hall.  
  
Harry couldn't take it anymore.  
  
Whipping out his wand, he pointed it directly at Valerie and muttered a spell he had just recently read about. "Grunnitus!"  
  
Valerie instantly sprouted a pig's tail, not unlike the one Dudley had received at the age of eleven, and her nose slowly transformed into a snout. Then, with great pleasure, Harry watched as she started grunting like a farm hog. All of her friends took on faces of horror, but Harry laughed.  
  
And, of course, Professor Severus Snape just happened to be making his way down the hall at exactly the moment Harry had pulled his wand out.  
  
"Finished, Potter?" he asked coldly, a wicked smile covering his thin lips. "This should be fun for both of us."  
  
Harry inwardly groaned. This day just couldn't get any better...  
  
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So? This one was a little short, too, but the next one's not. I've had it written for awhile, and I have to say it's one of my favorites ever! I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter!!! 


	17. Confusion, Confusion Beyond Control

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter. I'm not getting as many reviews as I used to, but I'm not sure if that's because I'm not leaving much time between chapters or what. To those of you who are reading, thank you!!  
  
Well, this is probably my favorite chapter so far. I hope you guys like it, too! Warning, though, it's a bit long...  
  
Disclaimer: Still don't own them!  
  
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Four mornings later, Ron found himself in the Great Hall during dinner. Harry was serving his detention with Snape for cursing that Ravenclaw. His brothers and sister were nowhere to be found, though this did make Ron a little suspicious of their whereabouts. Everyone else was at dinner, though, and Ron was currently engaging himself in what he found to be a rather interesting discussion of football with Dean. Hermione sat to his left listening vaguely, and every once in awhile making a comment. Surprisingly enough, she happened to be a fan of football. She had been released from the hospital wing yesterday morning. Her nose had, in fact, been broken, just as Ron had assumed, but Madame Pomfrey had managed to mend it beautifully, and there was no longer any trace that it had been set an a horribly wrong angle only days earlier.  
  
Everything was perfectly normal until Pansy Parkinson showed up at the table.  
  
She was followed closely by three other Slytherin girls that were all just as annoying as Pansy, and she was clutching what looked like a magazine in her hand. She smiled a fake smile at the Gryffindors, and Ron immediately wondered what she was up to. He quickly glanced behind her at the Slytherin table and saw that its entirety had their attention focused on the unfolding scene.  
  
"What do you want, Pansy?" It was Parvati Patil who had asked the question. She and Pansy had been friends once-upon-a-time pre-Hogwarts days, but since their first year at school, they were anything but friendly with each other.  
  
Pansy smiled innocently at her ex-friend and shrugged nonchalantly. "I just came over to say hi."  
  
Parvati rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right."  
  
Another smile covered Pansy's pale face. "Actually, I came over to congratulate the new members of your Quidditch team and wish them good luck at the upcoming match."  
  
Ron didn't buy that for a second. He didn't trust her any further than he could throw Millicent Bulstrode, who happened, in fact, to be one of the Slytherin girls accompanying Pansy on this little mission.  
  
Pansy turned her attention, of course, to Ron. "Ron," she never used his first name, "I really hope you do well at the match. I thought you might appreciate a copy of this month's Quidditch Center as a form of congratulations." She smiled broadly as she held the magazine out to him.  
  
Ron took it from her carefully, eyeing her a long moment before looking down at it.  
  
"It's open to an article I think you will find especially interesting," Pansy continued. "I'm sure Hermione would enjoy reading it, too." She never used Hermione's first name, either. Something was definitely up.  
  
Ron turned the magazine over and looked down at the article Pansy had so graciously left open for him.  
  
"Krum's New Love," read the title. Ron immediately tried to jerk the book out of Hermione's view, but she was already peering down at it intently.  
  
"Viktor Krum, contracted seeker for the Bulgarian national team, has recently been spotted with a new lady on his arm. The new woman is French model Arlia Krempau; a nineteen year old recent graduate from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic. As you will remember, Krum was spotted this summer with another young woman on his arm, Hermione Granger, now fifteen of Britain. Miss Granger is still in school at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and apparently Krum can't handle the distance.  
  
"When asked about Miss Granger, Krum was quoted as saying, "She is nice but very young." Whether or not the two of them had an official relationship is a fact yet to be confirmed. What can be confirmed, though, is that Miss Krempau is very much in an official relationship with the seeker.  
  
"The two of them seem very happy, and it has been confirmed by both Krempau's and Krum's publicists that the four carat diamond ring Miss Krempau is wearing on her finger is a gift from Krum. There is no real confirmation on whether the ring is an engagement gift."  
  
The article was accompanied by a picture of Viktor and Arlia, the ring in question glistening brightly on her left hand.  
  
Ron finished the article and looked up just in time to see Hermione doing the same thing. He didn't know what to say as she bit her lower lip and stared determinedly at the table in front of her. Lavender reached for the magazine, and she, Parvati, and Seamus read it together and then passed it to Dean and Neville. No one said anything.  
  
Pansy and her friends were all smiling rather smugly, though. "It was an interesting article, wasn't it?" Pansy's question was answered with laughter from her friends.  
  
And then Hermione threw her chair back from the table and got up, leaving the dining hall at lightning quick speed.  
  
Ron watched Hermione's retreating back as she ran from the Great Hall as quickly as her legs would take her. He didn't have a clue what to do or whether to go after her. Parvati and Lavender were also watching her, and Parvati caught Ron's eye.  
  
"Do you want us to go after her?"  
  
Ron seriously considered the offer. Parvati and Lavender were by no means best friends with Hermione, but, next to Ginny, they were the closest things to girlfriends that she had. And honestly, what type of help would he be anyway? He didn't know anything about "girly" issues. He almost told them yes, to go after Hermione.  
  
Almost.  
  
But he didn't. Because after all, he was her best friend. He was the one that was supposed to lend her the shoulder to cry on and offer a kind word. Yes, that's what a best friend did, right?  
  
But Hermione was... Well, she was a girl.  
  
Still, though. It was his job to be there for her, so he shook his head and told Parvati, "Thanks, but I better go." He got up from the table and shot Pansy the meanest glare he could muster.  
  
But as soon as he stood up from the Gryffindor table, he knew that finding Hermione was going to be quite a bit difficult. Normally, when he wanted to find Hermione, he simply headed to one place and one place only; something told him, however, that she had not run to the library to hide behind a stack of books on that evening. He had no clue where she had run to. Immediately, he wished that he had the Marauders' Map with him because tracking her down with that would be no problem whatsoever. But Harry had taken to carrying it with him everywhere on the suggestion of Sirius in case anyone was able to sneak onto the grounds that might wish him harm. So, Ron was going on complete instinct.  
  
The only problem was that his instinct didn't seem to be working properly.  
  
He figured that the Gryffindor Common Room would be as good of a place as anywhere to start. It wasn't as though he had too much else to go on, so he might as well try it. He set off down the hall in the direction of Gryffindor Tower, but as he passed a girls' bathroom, he knew that he didn't need to make the rest of the trip. For some reason, he knew that he had already found her. Checking at once to make sure it wasn't Moaning Myrtle's toilet, he opened the door and peered inside. There was no one in sight, but he could hear a soft crying coming from the other end of the room. Ron glanced behind him to make sure that there were no teachers or prefects around to take points from Gryffindor for catching him going into a girls' toilet. When he saw none, he quickly slipped inside and followed the sound of the crying all the way to the end of bathroom to the very last stall. He could hear her crying clearly now. Knocking gently on the door, he called to her. "Hermione?"  
  
He was met with no response other than the sound of her sobbing, so he tried again. "Hermione, it's me. Open up."  
  
There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence before Ron heard the sliding of the lock from the other side. He took that as cue to enter, and he slowly pushed the door open. Hermione was sitting on the ground against one of the side walls with her knees being hugged to her chest and her face buried deeply into her arms. She was crying, and it was obvious that she did not intend on looking up and meeting Ron's eye anytime soon.  
  
Ron, himself, was extremely nervous. He wished immediately that he had sent Parvati and Lavender instead, or at least that Harry was there with him. Anything just so that he wasn't alone... in a bathroom... with a crying girl.  
  
What the hell was he supposed to do?  
  
He did only what he could do. He pulled the door closed behind him and quietly slid to the ground opposite of Hermione. It was a tight squeeze, and it reminded him of the month that he, Hermione, and Harry had spent locked in a stall in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom mixing up the Polyjuice Potion. However, even with the absence of Harry, the stall seemed to be quite a bit more cramped. This was due to the fact that they weren't tiny twelve year olds anymore. Ron was actually quite tall, and though Hermione was still rather small, she was, nonetheless, quite a bit larger than she had been three years before. Ron made a mental note that if any potions needed brewing in secrecy this year that they would have to find a better spot than a bathroom stall if all three of them were to be included.  
  
The silence was unbearable, and Ron prayed that Hermione would say something first to break it. He got lucky. With her head still buried into her arms, she mumbled almost inaudibly, "This is a girls' toilet."  
  
Ron grinned. "So I noticed."  
  
"You're not a girl," she told him, still not looking up.  
  
"I noticed that, too." He was trying to joke with her, but she didn't seem to be finding the humor.  
  
She stayed silent with her face still completely hidden.  
  
Finally, Ron said, "I guess it would have been better if Parvati and Lavender would have come, wouldn't it have?"  
  
"Why would they have come?" she asked emotionless.  
  
Ron shifted a bit until he finally found a comfortable position. "Well... Um, they offered to. You probably want a girl in here anyway, don't you? They'll still come, I'm sure. Do you want me to go get them? I can try to find Ginny if you'd like..."  
  
Hermione finally looked up at him. Her face was red and tear-streaked, though she had ceased crying. "No. Don't go."  
  
Ron looked at her in surprise for a moment, the most unusual feelings taking over himself. He studied her curiously before saying, "But I don't know anything about this kind of stuff," he pointed out.  
  
"What stuff?" she asked, eyebrows raised slightly.  
  
"You know," Ron shifted once again, "This girl stuff."  
  
Hermione just rolled her eyes. "It's not girl stuff, Ron," she said rather haughtily, despite her distraught state.  
  
Ron frowned a bit; this was not easy for him. "Hermione, I really don't know if I'm the one you want to talk to..."  
  
But Hermione held up a hand to stop him as she implored him to listen to her with her deep, sad, brown eyes. "But you're the only one who will understand." She spoke quietly and almost pleadingly.  
  
Ron wasn't sure at all as to what she was talking about, and he told her as much. "Understand what?"  
  
"You're the only other person in the world who knows what it's like to be 'Famous Harry Potter's' best friend." Her face fell slightly as she said this.  
  
What did Harry have to do with any of this? "Hermione, what are you talking about?"  
  
Hermione was quiet for a long moment before she finally answered him. "Ron, I'm not crying because I've gone and got my heart broken or anything silly like that. I'm crying because I've just been humiliated in front of the entire wizarding world. I should have known that Viktor wouldn't want a nobody like me. Of course, he wants some beautiful French model!"  
  
Ron just raised his eyebrows at her. "Her..." He didn't know what to say.  
  
"Look. When I was younger, all the kids at my grade school knew me as 'Hermione Granger- the know-it-all.' But then I got my letter from Hogwarts, and I started thinking of myself as 'Hermione Granger- the witch,' and I really started to like the sound of that because no one else I knew was a witch. It really made me feel special for once. But then pretty soon after I got here, I started being known as 'Hermione Granger- Harry Potter's best friend.' Now, don't get me wrong, I don't regret being Harry's friend because he's a wonderful person, and I know he never asked for any of this attention or the fame. But it really got old rather quickly. And so when Viktor came around, I just sort of jumped at the chance to be known as 'Hermione Granger- the girl Viktor Krum is dating.' I mean, I know it's not much better, but at least it was a change..."  
  
Ron listened to her, a wave of shock rushing over him. He knew only too well what she was talking about. Since the day he was born, he had always been known as the youngest Weasley boy. And he knew he wasn't as good as any of his brothers, either. He wasn't as smart as Bill, he wasn't as athletic as Charlie, he wasn't as mature as Percy, he wasn't as funny as Fred and George. He was just the youngest one whose greatest accomplishment had been snagging 'Famous Harry Potter' as a best friend. He knew what Hermione had been talking about when she'd said that that title had gotten old rather quickly. Yes, he knew that Harry had never chosen to be famous, and he also knew that Harry hated having everyone gawk at his forehead everywhere he went. But to Ron, it didn't look annoying at all. Harry was getting all the attention that Ron had craved since the day he'd been born as the youngest of six boys. And, yes, he was jealous. For the most part, he managed to keep his jealousy to a bare minimum, but the year before it had just been too much. He'd let the jealousy get the better of him, causing what had been a very terrible row between the two of them that resulted in weeks of not speaking to each other. Ron wouldn't have admitted it verbally, but those had been very painful weeks for him, and what made them perhaps even more painful was the fact that Hermione seemingly chose Harry over him. Ron knew, of course, that Hermione only spent more time with Harry because no one else in the school would even talk to him, save the Creevey brothers, but still, Ron had wished that Hermione might choose his side. What was so shocking now was the fact that Hermione had been harboring her own bitterness about being stuck with the title of 'Harry Potter's best friend' because during those weeks, though she spent a considerable amount of more time with Harry than with Ron, she'd managed to keep neutral ground and play the part of a somewhat go- between for them. Ron had never in a million years dreamed that she was capable of feeling the same sort of bitterness toward Harry's fame that he had been feeling for five years.  
  
He looked up at Hermione finally and nodded slowly, "I understand. I really do," he assured her quietly.  
  
He saw what was the distinct glistening of tears in the corners of her eyes as she said in what was barely an audible voice, "Why isn't plain old Hermione Granger ever good enough?"  
  
Ron didn't want her to cry again. He didn't know that he was capable of handling her when she was in tears. True, it wasn't anywhere close to the first time he'd seen her cry; hell, he'd even been the one to make her cry on more than one occasion. But this was all different, and it scared him. In the past when he'd witnessed her crying, it had been because she was upset at having to serve a detention after Harry and Ron (it had always been their faults, according to Hermione) had gotten her into trouble with one of their crazy rule-breaking schemes, or it had been because she'd been terrified that Harry was going to get himself killed during one of his many meetings with You Know Who, or it had been because something had made her so happy, she'd been reduced to tears, or it had even been because she had gotten upset at one of the many rows that she had engaged herself in with Ron during the past five years. It had never been because she was pouring her heart out to him and him alone.  
  
And now he didn't know what to do.  
  
"It is good enough," the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Plain old Hermione Granger is perfect even." He was as much surprised by his words as she was, and he felt himself go red immediately after saying them.  
  
For a moment, it appeared as though Hermione were going to burst into tears all over again, but then her face changed to one of screwed up confusion. "No, it's not!" she insisted, suddenly quite loud. "I'm bossy. I'm a know- it-all. I always have to be right. Besides you and Harry, I have no friends. Mostly every girl in this school talks bad about me. And obviously, I wasn't good enough for Viktor, now was I? He didn't even feel it necessary to alert me to his conclusion that 'I'm nice but very young.' I was too daft to see it from the start!" She listed off her "bad traits" as though she'd been thinking of them nonstop for weeks.  
  
Ron was afraid that she had.  
  
In an attempt to cheer her up just a bit, he smiled playfully at her. "Okay, I give you bossy. And the know-it-all one... And you really do always have to be right." He was joking with her, but she glared at him.  
  
"I know, Ron. I don't need you to tell me the obvious."  
  
Okay, obviously, joking was not what she needed at the moment. "I was only playing, Hermione. And anyway, you're wrong about the rest of them."  
  
She raised an eyebrow at him. So, he continued.  
  
"Look, just because Harry and I are your best friends doesn't mean that you don't have any other friends. All the other Gryffindors are your friends," he pointed out.  
  
But she shook her head. "No, they're your friends- yours and Harry's. They only talk to me because they feel obligated to. Do you think that any of them would even speak to me if it wasn't for you and Harry? That is, of course, unless they needed help with Charms," she added bitterly.  
  
Ron frowned. She was definitely not making this easy for him. He opted against trying to reason with her because he knew from more than enough experience that any sort of "reasoning" that transpired between the two of them always resulted in a heated argument, and he didn't think that an argument was what either of them needed at that moment. "And all those girls... Hermione, screw them. They're just jealous."  
  
Hermione laughed at this, though it wasn't a joyful laugh by any means. "Jealous? What have they got to be jealous of? I'm sure that finding out they've been dumped while reading a national magazine has always been one of their dreams," she said with more than a bit of sarcasm.  
  
Ron just shook his head. "Hermione, they're jealous because you're so much better than they are. And they can't stand it!"  
  
Hermione, however, was not convinced. "Better than them? Yes, I'm sure they all aspire to be a bossy know-it-all who can only claim two friends."  
  
"Look. You're the smartest girl in this whole school. You know more than all the other girls put together! And you're nicer than all of them, too! You really care about people, and you really care about things less fortunate than you; they can't stand the fact that you can be so selfless while they're all selfish little twits! And you're really funny, too! Well, at least you are when you aren't being an annoying prat," he added with a teasing grin. Hermione just stared at him expressionless. And with a voice much quieter, he added, "And you're beautiful. Really beautiful..."  
  
He didn't know where he'd gotten the gall to say all of that, but as soon as he'd said the words, he felt a blush creep into his cheeks and settle there.  
  
Hermione stared at him silently for a long moment, and then all at once, she burst into tears and flung her arms tightly around his neck, scooting her body until she was nearly on his lap. And she just cried into his shoulder, soaking his shirt with her tears. Ron, a bit panicked at first, awkwardly raised his hand to pat her on the back; after a moment, though, he was relaxed enough to hold her back while smoothing her hair down soothingly. He was surprised to find that her hair smelled like a mix of coconuts and lemons, and he wondered briefly how he had never noticed this before. He also wondered how he had never noticed how soft her skin felt under his hand as he rubbed her back gently. And he also wondered why he hadn't hugged her more often in the five years that they had been friends...  
  
Hermione was doing some wondering of her own. She wondered when Ron had changed from skinny to built and when these muscles in his back and arms had shown up. She wondered when he had stopped smelling like sweat and started smelling like... cinnamon? She wondered when he had turned into such a... well... gentleman. And she wondered when her own body had started melting so perfectly into his. Never before could she remember ever feeling so safe and protected, and to be honest, it scared her...  
  
Finally, after what seemed like hours to both of them, Hermione pulled away gently and met his eyes shyly. "Thank you," she whispered quietly.  
  
Ron blushed at her words; he knew that going red was a stage he was never going to grow out of. Just as quietly, he said, "And there's something else, too."  
  
Hermione just wrinkled her forehead a bit. "Huh?"  
  
"On your list... About Krum..." Ron looked away briefly and then back to her. "He's an idiot, Hermione."  
  
"He's not an idiot, Ron," Hermione automatically started her defense. "In fact, he's rather intelligent, and..."  
  
"No," Ron cut her off shortly. "I mean he's an idiot because he hurt you."  
  
Hermione was confused, and she was positive that this confusion was showing on her face. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Ron suddenly looked extremely uncomfortable, and Hermione was sure that he was going to get up and make a run for it at any moment. Instead, though, he said, "Well... You know... I mean, he let you go... And I would never let you- a girl like you- go like that..." He finished much quieter than he had begun, and his eyes had obviously found something on the floor that must have been simply captivating because he was studying it quite intensely.  
  
Hermione couldn't quite believe that Ron was being so nice to her. For five years, it had seemed that his greatest goal in life was to tease her and make her angry. But he was just being so... so... so grown up. "Ron, that's really nice," she said quietly, trying to catch his eye.  
  
He gave her a weak half-smile and looked up sheepishly. "Don't tell anyone, okay?"  
  
Hermione laughed. "Okay, I promise."  
  
He finally gave her a whole smile and said, "And really, Hermione. Don't worry about what all those stupid girls say because you're worth twelve Pansy Parkinsons."  
  
They both laughed at the memory of Harry and Ron assuring Neville Longbottom that he was worth twelve Draco Malfoys and of Neville using this as his defense in one of Malfoy's many attacks during first years. "Thanks," said Hermione between giggles, "But I'm not sure that's even much to brag about..."  
  
Ron shrugged. "Oh, well. Pansy's a twit."  
  
Smiling, Hermione nodded. "Well, at least you're right about that."  
  
He gave her a cocky grin and said, "Hey, I'm always right."  
  
Hermione just rolled her eyes. "Sure, Ron."  
  
They smiled at each other for just a moment longer before Ron suddenly grew quite serious and started looking rather nervous again. "Um... Hermione, I have to ask you something..."  
  
Hermione raised her brows and stared at him expectantly. "Yes?"  
  
"Oh! Well, yeah... Well, uh, I was just wondering if maybe... if maybe since you're not going to the ball with anyone now... And well, I'm not going with anyone either... I mean, do you maybe want to go? Together?"  
  
Hermione was shocked a bit at first before she had time to marvel at how much longer it had taken him to ask her this year than it had the previous year when he'd said, "You can go with one of us," as though she were on reserve for Ron and Harry to use after they'd been turned down by all the "pretty" girls in the school. It had really hurt her then, and she still hadn't forgotten how awful it had felt when Ron had basically told her that the only reason she'd gotten a date in the first place was because Viktor had wanted information on Harry. "Are you asking me because I'm your last resort? Or because you feel sorry for me?" she asked rather coldly.  
  
Ron sighed and looked down at his hands, obviously struggling with his insides over something. Finally, he looked up at her and said in what was a very strained voice, "I'm sorry I said all that last year."  
  
Whoa. Ron Weasley had just apologized to her- Hermione Granger. If she had had a quill with her, she would have recorded the date and time because this was definitely one for the history books. He had never, in five whole years, uttered an apology to her over anything, nor had she to him. This was definitely weird.  
  
"Ron... Did you just say..."  
  
He cut her off. "I'm sorry, Hermione. Okay? I really am." He looked up at her with panicked blue eyes, and she couldn't think of one single thing to say. "It was all stupid, and I didn't mean it. And... I'm sorry." She was still just sitting in shock that he had apologized to her. "And I'm not asking you now because you're the last resort or because I feel sorry for you... I'm asking you because I want to go with you. I mean... You know... If you want to." He looked away, his cheeks as pink as the tops of his ears.  
  
Hermione wasn't sure what else to say, so she just said, "Okay."  
  
Ron looked back at her, his eyes wide with what appeared to be shock at the fact that she had accepted his date. "Are you serious?"  
  
She nodded. "Yeah. I'm serious."  
  
Ron swallowed, and he looked as though a wave of relief was washing over him. He bit his lower lip briefly and then said, "So we're going... Like together, right?"  
  
Hermione laughed very softly as she nodded. "Yeah. Like together."  
  
"And you're being serious, right? You're not going to just say yes now and then say no then to get back at me for being a prat last year, are you?" He looked scared, as though he thought she might actually do something that petty.  
  
"Ron, does that sound like something I would do?" she asked him with raised eyebrows.  
  
Ron just shook his head before mouthing a "no" silently.  
  
And then they went right back into the whole staring wordlessly at each other thing. Ron could hardly believe that he had just asked Hermione Granger to the Halloween Ball.  
  
Hermione Granger...  
  
His best friend...  
  
His best friend who was suddenly so beautiful...  
  
His best friend who he really wanted to kiss at the moment...  
  
Wait. Did he really just think of Hermione and kiss in the same sentence? No, this was absurd. He told himself quickly that with them being in such close proximity with each other, it was only a natural male reaction. He knew all too well that teenage boy hormones had been taking over his being for sometime now, and he reasoned with himself that this was all just connected with those horrid little things. It wasn't Hermione. It was just the fact that she was a girl, and that he was a fifteen year old boy.  
  
Right.  
  
Ron quickly shook himself of these thoughts before they became too obvious and he stood up before he could think of anything else to say that might come back to haunt him at a later time. He fumbled for the lock on the door and pushed it open, becoming at once thankful for the much larger open space that the bathroom entailed. He looked back around at Hermione who was still sitting on the floor of the stall looking up at him in shock.  
  
"Well, we'd better get back to the Tower," he said quickly. "Harry's probably wondering where we are." He didn't offer his hand to help her stand because he quite frankly did not trust himself to touch her, and he made his way for the bathroom exit as quickly as he could.  
  
He definitely needed to get out of there.  
  
***************************************  
  
Harry was back from his detention and already in the Gryffindor Common Room when his two best friends climbed through the portrait hole. He was sitting at table with Dean, Neville, and Seamus working on their Divination homework, and he looked up and motioned for Ron and Hermione to join him.  
  
"Ron, have you already done this?" he asked, motioning to the books and parchment in front of him.  
  
Ron looked at Harry as though he had grown a second head. "Do you think I have, Harry?" he asked rather sarcastically.  
  
Harry frowned and rolled his eyes. "Well, do you know how to do it?"  
  
"Just make it up," Ron said obviously.  
  
"You can't," said Dean miserably. "It isn't predictions."  
  
"Do you know how to do it?" Harry repeated.  
  
Ron peered down at the book for a brief moment before saying, "Not a clue."  
  
"Damn." It was Seamus who had cursed as he threw his quill across the table, splattering ink all over Neville and his book. "Sorry," he muttered to Neville before biting his lower lip to hide an obvious grin.  
  
"Why don't you just ask the Psychic Sisters?" Ron asked in an attempt to keep himself from laughing at the still shocked look on Neville's face.  
  
"Good idea!" said Dean. "Oi! Parvati! Lavender!"  
  
Ron looked up as Hermione's roommates came bouncing across the room giggling. He glanced at Harry and said, "Let me copy later?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah, okay. Are you going to bed?"  
  
Ron nodded. "I'm really tired. I don't know why."  
  
Harry just eyed his best friend before shrugging and accepting his explanation. He then turned his attention to Parvati and Lavender who were busy explaining the lesson to the other boys. Ron glanced quickly at Hermione and muttered a "G'night" before she could scold him for copying homework. With that, he hurried to the stairs and made his way to the door marked "Fifth Year Boys."  
  
He walked into the room he had slept in for the past five years and made his way past Neville's and Harry's beds to his own. He reached for his nightclothes and pulled them on after quickly removing his uniform and throwing it under his bed with the rest of his dirty clothes for the house- elves to collect in the morning. As soon as he'd had this thought, he immediately wished he hadn't.  
  
House-elves were automatically connected with Hermione in his mind. And Hermione was one person he did not want to think of the moment.  
  
Of course, he knew deep in his mind that the whole reason he had decided to go to bed early was to think about Hermione. He knew that he needed to sort out the whole lot of previous events in the bathroom, and he knew that he couldn't do this unless he was completely alone to think.  
  
Hermione.  
  
Okay, yes, she was a girl. He knew that already. He could even go as far as saying that he knew she was pretty. If he wanted to be totally honest with himself, he would have to admit that he had recognized this fact last year when they'd all been at the Three Broomsticks and Rita Skeeter had walked in after releasing the article about Hagrid being a half-giant. Hermione had gotten so furious that she'd jumped out of her chair and started telling the journalist off, and Ron had realized then that the reason he probably liked fighting with her so much was the fact that her brown eyes blazed so beautifully when she got angry. Yes, he'd truly noticed it then, but for the sake of his pride, he was going to pretend that he hadn't noticed how pretty she was until all the all boys at Hogwarts had- the moment she'd shown up wearing trendy clothes and sporting a slick new hairstyle. So, yes, she was pretty.  
  
So what? Loads of girls were pretty. It wasn't a big deal, right?  
  
Ron hadn't dated much, but this didn't mean that he didn't notice girls. He did. He noticed them a lot, in fact. Truthfully, he thought about them probably too much, but at least he didn't act on any of these "thoughts." He noticed lots of stuff about lots of different girls. For instance, he liked the way Parvati's hair always started to shine when she was sitting beside the fire; the light made her dark locks just gleam, and Ron had to admit that Parvati's hair could sidetrack him from his homework for minutes on end. Then there was Lavender. Although, she could annoy him greatly after very brief periods of time, she did happen to have the most intoxicating laugh. He could listen to her laugh all day- so long as she was laughing and not giggling. He noticed other girls as well. Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff had the most beautiful color of eyes he had ever seen; they were almost a violet sort of shade. And then there was Pansy Parkinson, the girl he hated more than all others; she might have been... well, a bitch, but she had what Ron could not deny was a most perfect body. He didn't know if he was the only one to notice all of this because girls were not a common topic of conversation in the Fifth Year Gryffindor Boys Dormitory. The only girl that Harry had ever mentioned was Cho, and he'd been on about her for years now. Neville had never shown any sort of interest in any girl unless the time he'd asked Hermione and then Ginny (Ron didn't even want to think about that) to the Yule Ball was to be counted, and Dean and Seamus might have confided in each other, but neither of them had ever really talked about girls to Ron. Unless, of course, you counted Seamus' very rude remarks concerning most of the female population of Hogwarts.  
  
But Ron wasn't stupid. He did have five older brothers after all, and he knew that it was totally normal to think about girls a lot- especially when you were fifteen. But what all of them had failed to mention was the fact that it was possible to start thinking about your best friend in that way. Ron reasoned, of course, that none of his brothers had ever had to deal with this issue, though, because they had all managed to stick with members of the same sex when claiming best friends. Well, Ron hadn't meant to end up with a girl as a best friend; it had just sort of happened! And anyway, she hadn't been a girl back then. Well, okay, technically she had been a girl, but they were eleven years old, and an eleven year old girl was quite a bit different from a fifteen year old girl. Besides the very obvious physical differences, there were so many emotional and maturity differences. And though Hermione had always acted old for her age, she was suddenly seeming to be a rather mature woman.  
  
Woman.  
  
No, he could not think of her as a woman because that was definitely too weird. She was becoming a mature girl. Yes, that was much better. She was mature, and yet, at the same time, she was still such a vulnerable little girl. She had shown him as much tonight when she had poured her heart out to him. And even though she was maturing so rapidly, she was still young enough to be playful. She'd shown him that several times in the past few months.  
  
He rolled over and smothered his face in his pillow.  
  
Why, oh why in God's name, was this happening to him?  
  
***********************************************************  
  
Across the tower in the girls' dormitory, Hermione was doing some late- night musing of her own. In the course of three days, she'd managed to get beaten up, dumped, and asked out by her best friend.  
  
Things sure were confusing...  
  
Of course, it was the last of the things that bothered her the most. Maybe bothered was the wrong word because it's not as if she was upset in the least by Ron's suggestion that they attend the Halloween Ball together. She wasn't. In fact, she was rather pleased.  
  
The fact that she was rather pleased was actually what bothered her.  
  
The first time she'd ever met Ron Weasley, she'd been a ten year old girl with nothing except becoming the top of her class on her mind. Things sure had changed since then. That ten year old didn't care about anything except memorizing her course books and getting at least 100% on every exam she took. She didn't really talk to any of her classmates, and the few that she did manage to make occasional conversation with, she found quite annoying.  
  
Ron Weasley and Harry Potter topped that list.  
  
Actually, Harry wasn't that bad. He usually just backed up Ron's taunts and gave the old nod in agreement whenever Ron had a snide remark for her. It was Ron who annoyed her the most- him with his fiery red hair and fiery temper to match. They'd fought incessantly, and if there was one person in the school that she was positive she would never befriend it was Ronald Weasley.  
  
Funny how that same Ronald Weasley was the very person who made her realize that she did, in fact, need friends.  
  
"It's no wonder no one can stand her. She's a nightmare, honestly."  
  
She would never, for as long she lived, forget that remark. Nor would she forget the pain it caused her.  
  
That Halloween night of her first year was the first time Hermione had cried at Hogwarts. She'd been away from her parents for two whole months and not shed a tear, when previously, the longest she'd ever been away from them were overnight trips to her grandparents. She'd listened to her classmates snicker behind her back as she was always the first to put her hand in the air to answer a question, she and never flinched. She'd heard several of them call her a know-it-all, quite a few to her face, actually, and she'd never cried.  
  
So, why had Ron Weasley's off-handed remark been the one that sent her over the edge?  
  
It was a question she couldn't answer at the time. She remembered locking herself in the girls' bathroom that night as well to cry her sorrows out. And as she'd sat there, she'd asked herself the same question. Why did she care what that over-confident prat thought of her anyway? It wasn't like he was anyone of importance. It wasn't like she even liked him, much less cared what he thought.  
  
But for some reason she did. She did care what he thought, and that fact had bothered her.  
  
It was bothering her even more now.  
  
It had been a long time since she'd gone back to that night with the Mountain Troll, but she found that she could remember it as clearly as if it had been yesterday and not five years ago. Perhaps it was the most significant moment of her life... She'd never really thought about that until now, but it seemed logical. That night had changed her entire life forever, and she'd found something she'd never really had before.  
  
Friends.  
  
She remembered returning home to her parents for Christmas that year and telling them story after story about her new friends. When her mum had jokingly asked her if either of these boys was her boyfriend, she had blushed and reluctantly admitted that she did think Harry was kinda cute. She'd then pulled out book after book and shown her parents all the references they made to the Boy Who Lived and told them how he, like her, had grown up in a Muggle home and had no idea he had magical powers until he'd gotten his letter from Hogwarts. When her mum had asked about Ron, Hermione remembered shrugging and saying, "He's okay, I guess. Really annoying sometimes, though."  
  
She'd certainly not blushed and said that he was cute. In fact, she'd never said that he was cute. Not out loud anyway.  
  
Okay, so that was a lie.  
  
Hermione felt herself blushing even now as she rolled over onto her side and cringed at memories still quite fresh in her mind. Though, she had denied having any recollection of it, she remembered the night at the nightclub vividly. She remembered everything that had happened that night, the way she had acted, and the way Ron had taken care of her. Of course, she remembered telling him that he was cute and pointing out more than once how adorable his dimples were. She couldn't believe she'd said all that.  
  
But she would be lying if she said it wasn't the truth.  
  
Ron was cute. In fact, he was very cute. And even though she'd tried very hard to ignore it, she couldn't help but take notice of the way he was rapidly filling out with muscles and growing into his height. Gone were the days of the tall, skinny boy with hands and feet too big for his frame. And then, of course, there was the hair. She'd seen it for five years, and she'd watched as it turned colors from dark red in the winter to an almost strawberry blonde color in the summer to an orangish color in between. She'd watched as it had gone from a bowl cut at eleven years old to a short and spiky cut at twelve to a mess of every which way locks at thirteen to shaggy at fourteen, and now to the short, but not too short cut he was sporting at fifteen. For five years, his hair had transfixed her.  
  
So, now what was she supposed to do? It didn't seem fair to ignore these growing feelings that she was having, but they scared her just the same.  
  
And they confused her beyond reason.  
  
************************************************************  
  
So? Whadda ya think? I am very proud of this chapter, and I've probably rewritten it more times than JK Rowling has rewritten the fifth book (Grrr...) But anyway, it was one of those scenes that you just have playing in your head and you just know you have to get somewhere where you can write it all down. You know what I'm talking about? Well, this was one of those, and I've had it written since probably the second chapter of this story. I REALLY want to hear feedback on this chapter, you guys! If you don't mind, and if you got this far (it was a long ride, I know), please click the little blue box and let me know your thoughts! Thanks!!! 


	18. When Things Really Get Bewildering

"Ron, get your lazy ass out of bed!"  
  
A pillow being hurled at his head hurled the sleeping redhead from his slumber. With a loud groan, he grabbed at the pillow and slung it back over his shoulder at the original thrower. With no words, he also showed the offender how angry he was by raising a single finger into the air without even opening his eyes.  
  
"Get up!" This time another voice joined the other one. "Man, you're gonna miss breakfast!"  
  
Ron was about to tell both people who were talking to him, he was too tired at the moment to distinguish the voices, to promptly fuck off. A grumble in his stomach, though, stopped him.  
  
Groaning, he slowly sat up and rubbed at his eyes. He saw Dean and Seamus staring at him expectantly, Dean holding the pillow that had been hurled across the room. "What time is it?" he asked groggily.  
  
"8:46. You better hurry up if you want breakfast," Seamus said with a quick glance at the clock.  
  
At that moment, the door from the bathroom opened, and Harry entered the room, his hair very wet, obviously having just emerged from the shower. "You're up," he said with a glance at Ron.  
  
"How bloody observant," Ron muttered, rolling his eyes.  
  
Harry, not commenting on the sarcasm, crossed the room to his bed and pulled a clean uniform out of the stack of freshly laundered clothes beside his bed. "I was wondering if you were sick or something," he said, separating the clothes and laying them out flat to try and smooth some of the wrinkles from them.  
  
Ron yawned and shook his head. "I'm fine," he muttered sleepily as he made his way to the bathroom and took a quick shower.  
  
Minutes later, when he returned to the dormitory, Harry was the only roommate in sight. The others had obviously chosen not to wait on him and went on to the Great Hall. Harry, now dressed in his school clothes, was packing his bag and looked up when Ron reentered the room. "What happened with Hermione last night?" Harry asked the question before Ron had even made it to his own pile of clothes.  
  
Ron looked up at him strangely. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Well, Dean told me about the whole article thing... Is she okay?"  
  
So, that's what he was referring to. "Oh! Yeah, she's fine." He said this with a quick shrug before dropping beside his bed and grabbing at some clothes of his own.  
  
"Well, when you guys came back up last night, she looked like she'd been crying," Harry said, looking up from his bag, an unmistakable look of concern on his face.  
  
Ron thought back on the previous night and couldn't help but feel uncomfortable even now as he remembered everything that had went on and everything that Hermione had told him. He didn't think it would be fair at all to Hermione to indulge Harry with all the secrets she'd revealed to him, especially since many of the secrets had been in reference to or about Harry. He settled on saying, "Yeah, she cried, but she's fine now."  
  
Harry was silent for a moment, and Ron quickly busied himself with getting dressed instead of commenting further. For a minute, it looked as if Harry might drop the whole issue, but Ron knew he wasn't that lucky. "So, how did you calm her down?"  
  
Ron buckled the belt of his trousers and sighed. "I just told her not to pay attention to Pansy Parkinson or any of those other bitches that talk about her, and I told her that Viktor Krum was an idiot." He hoped this would put an end to the subject.  
  
Harry nodded silently, then screwed up his face a bit and said, "So, did anything else happen?" Actually, Harry wasn't quite sure if he wanted to hear the answer to the question. However, he did have money riding on this...  
  
Ron just stared at him. He willed himself not to blush as he said, "What else would have happened?"  
  
Harry shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, you know. Just other stuff." He was not about to say, 'So, Ron, did you manage to snog Hermione?' There was just no way that was about to happen.  
  
Ron looked down quickly and busied himself with pulling his socks on in a motion much slower than necessary. "Uh, well..." he couldn't quite make himself tell Harry, yet.  
  
Harry's stomach dropped. Something had happened! Oh, he was sure he was going to be sick...  
  
"I asked her to the Halloween Ball."  
  
There. Ron had said it. He reached for his shirt and pulled it over his arms slowly, buttoning the buttons carefully one at a time. He definitely did not look up to catch Harry's reaction.  
  
Harry's mouth dropped open. Ron Weasley had asked Hermione Granger to the Halloween Ball... There was something almost... sacrilegious about it. Okay, so maybe sacrilegious was a strong word choice, but still... It was definitely vomit material.  
  
"You asked Hermione to the Halloween Ball?" Harry accented her name as though to make sure he had heard right.  
  
Ron, still buttoning his shirt at a snail's pace nodded without looking up.  
  
"Hermione Granger?" Harry just couldn't quite believe that it was true.  
  
"No, Hermione Appleton." Ron rolled his eyes and finally looked up at his best friend, the white school shirt not yet completely buttoned.  
  
"But why?" Harry wrinkled his brow in confusion, trying to make sense of the whole thing. Yes, he'd suspected long ago that Ron definitely had feelings for Hermione different from his own, but being faced with that fact head on was still shocking.  
  
Ron suddenly looked very uncomfortable. "Why not?" He wasn't using an angry and offended tone; he was using one of uncertainty, as though he were waiting for Harry to give him a good enough reason to un-ask her to the dance.  
  
"Because..." Harry trailed and frowned. "I don't know why not."  
  
"Harry, did you notice that Hermione changed?" Ron was still looking like he would rather be serving detention with Snape than be having this conversation, but it was clear to both of them that this conversation was definitely one that needed to be had.  
  
Of course, he noticed that she had changed. You would have to blind not to notice that Hermione had suddenly turned into what could possibly be the prettiest girl in the school. And he told Ron as much. "I do have eyes, you know. Granted they might not be very good, but they still work." He pushed the glasses on his face up unconsciously.  
  
"She's a girl now, Harry," Ron said in what was an unmistakably helpless sort of voice.  
  
Harry snorted. "She's always been a girl."  
  
But Ron just shook his head. "No, I mean, she's a real girl now. Like a real one."  
  
"Versus a fake one?" Harry raised his eyebrows, not sure if he was following closely enough.  
  
Ron rolled his eyes and went back to buttoning his shirt. "Just forget about it."  
  
Harry would have liked very much to forget about it. However, he knew Ron better than he knew himself, and he correctly predicted Ron's huffiness. He knew that if he didn't prod for further information, Ron would spend the entire day pretending as though Harry didn't even exist. "No," he said, sighing. "I just don't understand what you're talking about."  
  
Ron sighed and reached for the red and gold tie hanging from the corner of his bedpost. "I don't understand, either, Harry. Really. Just forget it."  
  
"You like her, don't you?"  
  
Harry could have gasped in surprise himself at the sudden outright question he had posed. He quickly looked down at his bed and avoided Ron's eyes.  
  
It was a good thing, too, because the look that Ron cast Harry's way was enough to petrify someone.  
  
"Have you bloody lost your mind?!" Ron said in a voice much louder than he'd used previously.  
  
Harry picked at the corner of his blanket. "Er... I just meant..." He was helpless; he had no excuse whatsoever.  
  
It didn't matter, though, because Ron went into a tirade. "No, I don't like her! She's my best friend for God's sake! Just because I asked her to a stupid dance does not mean that I... like Hermione Granger!"  
  
"Okay!" Harry said quickly.  
  
It did no good.  
  
"I only asked her because I didn't have a date, and she was free! And because I felt sorry for her, and I didn't want all those Slytherin girls to see her show up to the dance alone! I was being a good friend, Harry! It does not mean that I like her!"  
  
"Okay!!!" Harry said much more loudly this time. Ron shut up abruptly and stared at the bespectacled boy across the room. "I get the picture, Ron. Jesus!"  
  
Ron rolled his eyes and jerked himself off of the bed, grabbing his robe and slinging it on. "Think before you start throwing around crazy accusations next time."  
  
Harry got up, and with a roll of his own eyes, he pulled his robe on, too. "Fine," he said haughtily. "You don't like Hermione. I get it. Let's just forget about it."  
  
Ron picked up his bag and walked toward the door. "Fine," he said, making his way down the hall toward the stairs, Harry close behind him.  
  
**********************************************************  
  
Harry sat in Transfiguration later that morning watching Ron and Hermione out of the corner of his eye. They were so bloody obvious; it was almost sickening. He'd spent an hour watching as Ron's eyes would fall on Hermione's profile until she would turn his head, and he would quickly jerk his head straight and pretend as if he hadn't been looking at all. And, much to Harry's dismay, Hermione pulled the same little stunt.  
  
Pulling a spare piece of parchment from his book, Harry took his quill and quickly scribbled a note. Anything to break up the annoying little scene happening to his right.  
  
' 'Mione,' the note read, 'What's the answer to number fourteen? I can't remember what McGonagall said.'  
  
He folded it carefully and slid it past Ron to Hermione, never taking his eyes off of McGonagall's desk to make sure she didn't look up and catch him passing notes.  
  
He watched as Hermione opened the note, glanced his way, and quickly wrote a response before sliding it back to him.  
  
'I'm not giving you the answer, Harold. Work it out for yourself.'  
  
He rolled his eyes quickly and glanced over at her; she was now bent over her own book, working diligently on the assignment they'd been given.  
  
'I already told you that Harold's not even my name. It doesn't work on me like it does on Ronald. And anyway, I can't work it out for myself! It was in the lecture, and I don't remember what she said! Please.'  
  
He slid it back down the table, catching the way Ron was eyeing the exchange curiously.  
  
A minute later, he had his response.  
  
'And I already told you that your name very well could be Harold. Have you ever seen your birth certificate? And I'm sorry if you don't remember what McGonagall said, but this will teach you to take notes in the future.'  
  
Giving up, he shot her a contemptuous look before writing a new message underneath hers.  
  
'Ron, have you done fourteen, yet? Hermione won't give me the answer, and I don't remember it.'  
  
He elbowed the parchment just a bit until it rested in front of Ron. Ron read it and wrote an answer.  
  
'I don't know it, either. I tried to look off her paper, but you know she blocks it with her arm. But seriously, have you ever seen your birth certificate?'  
  
Harry groaned. "My name's not Harold!" he blurted out loud.  
  
The sudden break in the silence of the room drew the stares of his classmates, and Harry felt himself blush slightly at the sudden attention. Professor McGonagall stood up behind her desk and peered at him over her glasses.  
  
"Is there a problem, Mr. Potter?" she asked coolly.  
  
Harry heard Ron snicker beside him, but he just shook his head and muttered a quick, "No, ma'am," before ducking his head and returning to his work.  
  
He was well-aware of the fact that it took several seconds for everyone's gazes to leave him, but he forced himself not to look up. He could still hear Ron fighting down giggles, so he reached for the note and quickly scribbled, 'Shut up,' before sliding it roughly at his best friend.  
  
He could still hear Ron laughing as he watched him write a response. It read:  
  
'Sorry, mate, but you really need to learn to control these sudden outbursts. They could get you into trouble one of these days.'  
  
Harry furiously scripted a reply.  
  
'Yeah, and if you keep laughing, you're going to get yourself into trouble. And not from McGonagall, either. I'm about to deck you.'  
  
This caused even more laughter, and Harry got the reply quickly.  
  
'Yeah, right. I could kick your ass, and you know it'  
  
He answered with, 'Just keep laughing and see.'  
  
After Ron read the answer and snickered even more, Harry saw Hermione reach for the letter. She read all of it quickly and wrote her own addition to it.  
  
'You both better be quiet and stop passing notes, or you're going to land yourselves in detention. And really, Harry, how do you know your name's not Harold?'  
  
She pushed the note towards Ron who glanced at it and added a, 'Yeah, how do you know?' before sliding it on down to Harry.  
  
"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger, and Mr. Weasley, I need to see all of you at my desk. And please bring whatever paper you three seem to be finding so entrancing, so I may have a look and be just as amused."  
  
McGonagall's voice shot through the otherwise silent room sharply, causing all three heads to jerk up and survey the teacher immediately. Harry could hear Ron groan from his right and wanted to echo the sound. Silently, though, he stood up with his two best friends and walked to the front of the room, taking notice of the stares from their classmates the entire distance. When they reached the desk, they stood facing the teacher silently, none of them stupid enough to launch into a defense.  
  
"The parchment, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said as she held her hand out expectantly.  
  
Harry reluctantly handed over the note and waited while the professor read it. He chanced a glance at his friends and saw that Ron was looking very sullen and that Hermione looked as though she was about to cry.  
  
Once McGonagall had finished reading the note, she looked up at the trio sternly. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, though, the bell sounded, and she was forced to address the class. "Please leave your work on the corner of my desk. Read chapters six and seven for homework." She turned back to the three students at her desk. "You three will stay after. Please return to your seat to get your assignments and turn them in with the others."  
  
They all nodded and turned around to walk back to the table they shared at the back of the room. Ron glanced over his shoulder to make sure that the teacher was busy watching as all the other students turned in their work. "This should be wonderful," he said sarcastically.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "This makes two detentions in one week for me. That's got to be a record or something."  
  
"No," Ron said, picking up his things, "Fred and George once got two detentions in an hour."  
  
Harry snickered a bit and glanced over at Hermione to see if she was humored as well.  
  
She wasn't.  
  
Together, they walked back up to the desk and placed their own papers into the stack. When the class filtered out completely, McGonagall started the lecture.  
  
"Let's go through this lovely little note, shall we?" She held up the parchment and read out loud, " 'Mione, what's the answer to number fourteen? I can't remember what McGonagall said." She lowered the paper and looked directly at Harry.  
  
"I do not tolerate cheating in my classroom, Mr. Potter," she said sternly. "And I do not appreciate being referred to by my surname only, either. It is most disrespectful."  
  
Harry looked down at his feet, suddenly getting a very bad feeling. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to be disrespectful." He would never refer to her by simply McGonagall to her face; he had more respect than that. But she was never supposed to see the note.  
  
The teacher looked back down at the note. "And while I am pleased that you did not worsen the situation by giving him the answer, Miss Granger, I see that you, too, assume that it is alright to call a professor by their surname."  
  
Hermione turned very red, and she attempted an apology. "I'm sorry, Professor."  
  
The irony of the apology was almost laughable.  
  
Almost.  
  
"And Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall looked at the tall redhead in the center, "I see that you, too, attempted to cheat on this exercise. However, you did not even request permission from Miss Granger; you simply tried to look at her paper." She did not allow Ron a chance to apologize. "And then further down the list, I see all these threats of violence. Are you aware," she looked between Ron and Harry, "that threats like these, no matter how playfully-natured, can be used to incriminate you in the future?"  
  
What? She couldn't possibly think that there would ever be a time when she would get to whip out this note and use it against them. It was a joke!  
  
"And how good of you to judge that this little note would land you all in detention, Miss Granger," she finished sarcastically.  
  
Hermione looked away and started chewing on her lower lip.  
  
She shook her head disappointedly at them. "I do not find note-passing amusing. It is disruptive and disrespectful. I would expect this from twelve year olds, but I would like to think that Fifth Years had moved out of the note-passing stage. You will all serve detention tonight with Mr. Filch. I will tell him to expect you all promptly at 8:00, and it would be to your very best interest to not be tardy, either. I am very, very disappointed in all of you."  
  
They all looked at her, silently nodding.  
  
"And you two," she looked at Ron and Harry, "will receive zeroes for this assignment. I absolutely do not tolerate cheating under any circumstances." She looked at Hermione, "And it would be in your very best interest, Miss Granger, to keep this in mind if anyone ever asks you for your work in the future. If you allow someone to copy your work, you are just as much to blame as they are."  
  
Harry wanted to scream. He couldn't believe that his mark was going to be affected by this! He hadn't even really needed help on number fourteen! He remembered the lecture; he was just trying to distract Ron and Hermione from each other.  
  
This was bloody unfair!  
  
He said absolutely nothing, though.  
  
Professor McGonagall continued. "I don't know if the three of you fully realize the importance that you hold on this school at the moment or not, but it is paining me to no end to see you getting into seemingly more trouble than ever before. I believe this is the second time I've dealt with each of you on very serious issues this year, and I must stress the importance that you do not spend your time causing trouble. It is imperative that you be alert at all times. Very imperative," she almost looked sympathetically at them. "Please be aware of the fact that there are much more important things than getting into trouble at the moment." She eyed each one of them separately before finishing. "Especially for the three of you."  
  
Harry wasn't exactly sure what she was talking about. He knew, of course, that she was telling them to be alert and not take the situation with Voldemort lightly, but he wasn't sure why she was making that big of a deal out of it. He glanced at Ron and Hermione and saw that they, too, were bewildered.  
  
Finally, Professor McGonagall told them they were dismissed. As they turned to leave, though, she said, "And just so you know..."  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione all turned to look at her expectantly.  
  
"Your name is just plain Harry, Mr. Potter."  
  
Harry couldn't be sure, but he had an inkling that the look on McGonagall's face might have been her idea of a smile. He grinned at her and nodded before exiting the classroom with his friends.  
  
"I told you," he muttered before they walked out into the corridor.  
  
"That old hag!" Ron said as soon as they heard the door to the classroom shut behind them. "I can't believe we have to serve with Filch and get zeroes on that assignment! If my grade drops, my mum'll kill me!"  
  
"I knew we were going to get in trouble for passing notes!" Hermione said accusingly. "I tried to warn you, but you just couldn't stop, could you?" She glared at the boys.  
  
"You warned us in the last sentence, Hermione," Ron said with a roll of the eyes. "And anyway, it's not like your precious mark is going to be affected."  
  
"No, but I still have to spend my night with Filch doing God knows what, don't I?" she said bitingly.  
  
But Harry wasn't really paying attention to the two of them. "What do you think she was on about there at the end?" he asked absently.  
  
Ron shrugged. "Probably just telling us to watch out for You-Know-Who."  
  
"No, I think it was more than that," Harry said fleetingly. "She said it like there was something we needed to figure out but that she couldn't help us with."  
  
Hermione nodded. "I sort of thought that, too," she admitted, the anger now gone from her voice. "But what do you think it is?"  
  
"I'm not sure, but it probably has to do with Voldemort," Harry drummed his fingers down the corridor wall as they walked.  
  
Ron groaned. "Don't say the name! And anyway, she could have meant anything. I think you're jumping the gun a bit."  
  
Harry shrugged. Maybe he was. Maybe it hadn't meant anything at all.  
  
Either way, though, a sick feeling was settling in his stomach at the thought of if.  
  
************************************************** 


	19. Detention

HI, EVERYONE!!!! Yes, I am FINALLY back! My summer was great, and I hope that everyone else had an equally pleasant vacation.  
  
As for this story, I haven't gotten the entire thing finished, but I do have tons and tons of chapters done ranging from this one to the very last, so I can hopefully fill in the blanks pretty quickly. I really hope that you guys are still interested in this story, as I know it's literally been months since my last post. If you are still interested, please, Please, PLEASE review and let me know!!!!  
  
Love ya all!  
  
Disclaimer: They all belong to J.K. Rowling (who apparently has no interest in them any longer...)  
  
************************************************  
  
Later that evening, Harry found himself with Ron and Hermione in the Restricted Section of the library. They had been assigned their punishment by Mr. Filch and were supposed to be dusting the shelves in the side- section.  
  
"Aren't we supposed to be in trouble?" Ron asked lightly as he glanced around at the many shelves of books. "Granted, I don't care too much for the library, but this is hardly punishment. Hell, this is an absolute picnic for Hermione!"  
  
Harry laughed at this, but Hermione just rolled her eyes in Ron's direction. "Well, it certainly won't hurt you to spend some time in here. God knows you never step foot near a book unless you're forced to."  
  
Ron scowled slightly, but he just shrugged his shoulders as he sat the ladder Filch had given him down and leaned it against a shelf. "So, where should we start?"  
  
Harry and Hermione glanced all around them, too. There were more shelves in the Restricted Section than Harry had originally thought, and he started to think that perhaps this wouldn't be as much of a walk in the park as they'd imagined.  
  
"Well, we better dust from the top to the bottom," he said, glancing up at the high, high shelf in front of him. "That way if the dust falls, it won't get on clean books."  
  
Hermione nodded and started to move the ladder to the end of a particularly high shelf. "Who's going up there?"  
  
Harry and Ron looked at each other with silent agreement and then turned back to Hermione. Ron smiled slyly at her. "Well, this ladder is probably really old, and I don't think it would hold Harry or me..."  
  
""But I'm scared of heights!" Hermione protested at once. "Please don't make me go up there!"  
  
Harry glanced at Ron and knew that neither of them was about to climb that rickety old ladder. Ron was right; it would definitely collapse under their weight, but Hermione was much lighter than either of them. "Hermione, it's either you go up there, or we don't get this finished. It's not like we can levitate ourselves up there and clean it. And that ladder won't hold us."  
  
Hermione huffed up and glared at them both. "Fine!" she said angrily. "But you both have to hold the ladder because I don't trust either of you enough on your own."  
  
Harry felt slightly offended, and Ron let out a loud huff of indignation. "Well, thanks, Hermione," he said sarcastically.  
  
"You're welcome," she said bitingly. Reaching for a higher rung, she turned to look at them. "Now, both of you hold it. And please don't let me fall," she said helplessly.  
  
"We've got you," Harry assured her, taking hold of one side of the ladder while Ron did the same on the other side. He reached down and picked up a dusting rag. "Here," he held it up to her, and she took it warily before placing one foot on the bottom step of the ladder.  
  
She looked at them fearfully, and Harry felt just a little sorry for her. "Oh, go on," Ron told her finally. "You're not going to fall, and if you do, we'll catch you."  
  
Hermione didn't appear to be too comforted by his statement, but she started up the ladder nonetheless. It was a very high shelf, and she climbed for several seconds before she finally got to a point where she could reach the top of the bookshelf. "Hold on tight," she called down to them, her voice wavering.  
  
Harry looked up at her and quite immediately wished he hadn't. The first thing he noticed when he looked up was the fact that it was very, very easy to see straight up Hermione's skirt. 'Oh, God,' he thought to himself. 'Look away; look away!'  
  
It didn't work.  
  
As much as he wanted to turn his head, it didn't help. He found that his head simply wouldn't turn; it was as if some strange force was holding it in the upwards position and forcing him to look straight up his best friend's skirt. The thing that really bothered him was that it was quite a nice view...  
  
'No!' he thought quickly. 'It's Hermione!'  
  
Hermione or not, he was quite transfixed on the sight above him. Finally, after what seemed like several agonizing minutes of staring quite inappropriately at his best friend and, worse yet, enjoying it, he managed to look away and turn his head to Ron.  
  
Ron, too, seemed to be taking in the view quite intently. As if sensing Harry's gaze on him, Ron turned his head, and both boys began to blush immediately. Then that invisible force, whatever it was, seemed to move their heads back to the original view, and they stared together for several more minutes.  
  
"Should we tell her?" Ron finally muttered quietly.  
  
Harry found himself shaking his head, though he was immediately appalled at whatever... thing... forced him to do so. "No, not yet," he muttered just as quietly.  
  
He saw Ron nod slowly from the corner of his eye, and he heard a very soft, "Right."  
  
At that moment, Hermione decided to raise herself onto her tiptoes, assumedly to reach a difficult, hard-to-reach spot. However, as she did this, her skirt rose even higher onto her hips, and the boys both found that they could see quite a bit more than they'd been able to previously. Harry found himself praying silently that Hermione would find an even more difficult spot to dust, and he heard Ron mutter, "Bloody hell..." from his right.  
  
Bloody hell just about summed it all up.  
  
"I'm almost done here." Hermione's voice drifted from above them and jerked them both instantly out of their reverie.  
  
Harry swallowed quickly and nodded, though he knew she couldn't see him. Ron let out an awkward, "Okay," in which his voice cracked and turned the word into three syllables.  
  
"Maybe we should tell her when she gets down," Harry whispered hurriedly to Ron.  
  
Ron just shook his head rapidly, though. "No!" he hissed back. "She'll kill us for not telling her sooner! And she'll be embarrassed!"  
  
Harry somehow thought that it was he and Ron who should be embarrassed.  
  
"What are you saying down there?" Hermione's voice seemed distant despite the fact that she was in the same room with them.  
  
"Nothing!" Harry called up quickly. "Are you finished yet?"  
  
"Just about," came the reply. "I've got to get to the very back, though, so just give me a few more minutes."  
  
Harry and Ron both watched as Hermione climbed a couple more rungs and rested one leg on a step higher than her other leg. This left even more to view than before, and Harry was quite positive that he was absolutely not supposed to be enjoying this. But despite what he was quite sure of, he was very much enjoying this little... show, or whatever. And he felt that whatever was causing him to enjoy it so much should be very, very ashamed.  
  
Ron looked to be enjoying the demonstration perhaps even more than Harry was. His mouth was slightly open, and he had his head tilted to the left in what was quite obviously an attempt to get the clearest view possible.  
  
"What the..." Hermione's almost exclamation instantly jerked them back to reality. It was followed by a very loud scream and then a horrible sounding crash. It took Harry a few moments to realize that the crash had come from first a large book tumbling and narrowly missing Ron's head and then Hermione herself falling several feet and crashing to the ground with yet another loud scream.  
  
Harry instantly let go of the ladder and saw Ron doing the same thing as they both rushed toward their best friend who was now lying on the ground a few places away from them. Her eyes were closed, and she wasn't moving in the least.  
  
"Hermione!" It was Ron who first exclaimed her name as they both dropped to their knees on either side of her. She gave no indication that she could hear him. "Hermione, are you okay?!"  
  
Harry felt himself suddenly get very sick. 'Please be okay!' he urged her silently. He looked frantically at Ron. "What do we do?!"  
  
Ron looked as frantic as Harry felt, and he shook his head rapidly. He reached out and touched Hermione's neck. "She's got a pulse!"  
  
"Thank God!" Harry exclaimed as he used one hand to gently slap at her cheek. "Hermione, wake up!"  
  
"Go get Madame Pomfrey!" Ron said quickly. "Hurry!"  
  
Harry nodded and moved instantly to get up, but he heard a muffled sound coming from the ground. He looked down to see Hermione slowly stirring. She groaned a few times and moved her head just a bit.  
  
Ron and Harry looked at each other, relief showing on both of their faces. Ron reached for her shoulder and shook her slightly. "Hermione, wake up."  
  
Another muffled groan was their answer, and then Hermione's voice came out very quietly. "No, Mum... Just five more minutes..."  
  
Once again, Harry and Ron looked across her at each other. Harry shrugged and tried again. "Hermione, it's us. C'mon, wake up."  
  
Finally, Hermione's eyes fluttered open. She blinked several times in the light before looking from one of them to the other curiously. "Why are you two in my room?" she asked groggily.  
  
"This isn't your room," Harry said slowly. "It's the library."  
  
Ron snickered lightly despite the situation and said in a quiet undertone. "She probably doesn't know the difference."  
  
Harry forced himself not to laugh at Ron's joke. Hermione was still obviously having a difficult time comprehending what was going on.  
  
"Why am I on the floor of the library?" she asked warily, her nervousness showing on her flushed face.  
  
"You fell off the ladder," Ron explained. "We're in detention, remember?"  
  
"Oh..." Realization took over Hermione's features. "I fell off that huge ladder?"  
  
Both boys nodded at her.  
  
"And I'm still alive?"  
  
"Apparently," Harry said in somewhat disbelief.  
  
Hermione then attempted to raise herself into a sitting position, but she groaned loudly as she tried. "My head hurts really bad," she confessed, finally managing to bring herself upright.  
  
Ron looked as worried as Harry felt. "Are you okay?" he asked timidly.  
  
Hermione nodded vaguely. "Yeah, I'll be fine." Then a look of excitement and confusion took over her face. "Where's the book?"  
  
Harry couldn't help but find the irony in the fact that Hermione had just woken up from nearly being killed and the first thing she thought about was a book. He just hoped Ron wasn't stupid enough to point this obvious irony out. To cut off any attempts that the redhead might make, Harry said, "What book?"  
  
"The book that jumped out at me." She said this as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.  
  
"A book jumped out at you?" Ron was biting his lip in what Harry strongly suspected was an attempt to cease any wavering laughter he might be about to exult. "Hermione, maybe you ought to see Madame Pomfrey..."  
  
Hermione shook her head, rubbing the back of her neck softly. "No! Just before I fell, a book jumped off the shelf. That's what made me lose my balance."  
  
Suddenly Harry remembered something. "A book fell off the shelf at the same time you did."  
  
"Where is it?" Hermione asked quickly.  
  
Harry leaned back a little and reached the aforementioned book. It was a thick book, one that would take him an entire year to read. Hermione, though, would refer to it as "light reading."  
  
Hermione instantly reached for the book and looked at the cover. It was so old that she had to dust several inches of dirt from the front to see the title.  
  
'Ancient Prophetic Predictions.'  
  
The three friends looked at it curiously. Ron was the first to speak. "Looks like something Trelawney would make us read," he said, only half- joking.  
  
Hermione paid him no attention as she laid the book in front of her and opened it to the first page. They were instantly met with a cloud of dust as the pages started turning themselves very rapidly. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all watched it in shock. After several moments, the book stopped turning its pages and fell open.  
  
"Uh, I don't think we should mess with this book," Ron said uneasily. "It might be dangerous."  
  
Harry hadn't forgotten the stories of the bewitched books that Ron had told him when they were second years and had found Tom Riddle's diary. But just as curiosity had gotten the better of him then, he shook his head. "No, I think we need to read it."  
  
Hermione was one step ahead of them, though. She was already leaning over the book and studying it intently. The writing was so tiny that she had to bend very close to it to make out the words.  
  
"What does it say?" Harry was eyeing Hermione curiously, but she just shook her head to silence him and continued reading.  
  
"You guys, I'm serious," Ron said quickly. "This looks very fishy to me. Books aren't just supposed to fly off the shelf and nearly get someone killed! It just doesn't work that way!"  
  
Ron might have been right, but Harry was way too interested in finding out exactly what the book had to say than to worry about whether or not it was dangerous. He was used to danger by now; his name might as well have been Harry "Danger" Potter. A book wasn't about to frighten him.  
  
Hermione suddenly gasped and looked up at them both. Her eyes were wider than normal, and she was staring at them both in what appeared to be disbelief. "You have to hear this," she told them quietly.  
  
"Hear what?" Harry leaned over and tried to read for himself, but Hermione was blocking the way and the print was too tiny to read from a distance.  
  
Hermione pushed some of her hair away from her face and began to read out loud.  
  
"In the year 1495 AD, the Dark Lord Manicalt reigned with unwavering power. The Dark Arts were at an all-time high, and Manicalt's followers continually brought terror to all who opposed them. That year marked the murder of over five-thousand witches and wizards who refused to follow Manicalt and resort to using the Dark Arts."  
  
"Five thousand witches and wizards?" Ron repeated in disbelief.  
  
Hermione continued. "Manicalt used his power to take over the entire European continent and bring them to his mercy. The most prominent wizarding school in Europe, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was turned into the headquarters for Manicalt and his followers. All of the tenants of the school, save a select few, were forced to serve Manicalt and his people endlessly."  
  
"What do you bet the 'select few' were the fifteenth century Slytherins?" Harry asked bitterly.  
  
"The Hogwarts headmaster at the time was a man by the name of Trenon Crinnet. Crinnet was murdered brutally in front of several students. Three of the students who were forced to watch their headmaster's demise formed a secret counter-attack and attempted to lead their fellow students in an effort to overthrow Manicalt.  
  
"Mary Pruitt was said to be the cleverest witch of her age, and it was her mind that concocted the plan to end the brutality taking over her school and the world. She enlisted the help of her two closest friends Thomas Whitton and John Layman. Whitton was orphaned at a very young age by a curse set upon his parents by Manicalt. He added the personal affliction for Manicalt that the operation needed. Layman, a very strong young man, fought forcibly for the safety of his friends and family and brought the physical strength needed to the plan."  
  
Harry suddenly felt very, very sick. Ron was shaking his head slowly and muttering, "I knew we shouldn't have looked at this."  
  
Hermione continued without a word. "The plan to overthrow Manicalt and his followers was successful. Manicalt fell in a final battle against the three young heroes; his death, however, brought the end to Pruitt, Whitton, and Layman, too, as their powers were completely exalted."  
  
"Oh, how bloody wonderful," Ron muttered sarcastically.  
  
Harry was feeling sicker by the second.  
  
"Many prophets predict the rise of another Dark Wizard in the future, this one to take power five-hundred years after Manicalt's demise. The new Dark Wizard will be more horrible and more ruthless than anything the wizarding world has been exposed to in the past, and his reign of terror will frighten many into joining him.  
  
"However, there will be hope because a new generation of good will be rising to power as well. Among them, three young wizards who will follow in the footsteps of Pruitt, Whitton, and Layman. With the power of "the brain, the heart, and the body," these young wizards will form a bond so strong that it will rival the Darkness which will be threatening to overtake them."  
  
Hermione finished and looked up at Ron and Harry timidly. "Guess how many years it's been," she said quietly.  
  
Ron threw his hands into the air and said quite loudly, "How fucking fantastic!" in the most sarcastic tone imaginable.  
  
Harry felt the overwhelming need to throw up. This just couldn't be true. He refused to believe it.  
  
His best friends were going to be in immediate danger all because of him.  
  
"I have to go." He spoke suddenly and looked up at his best friends with clouded eyes. He stood up without another word and started toward the door.  
  
"Harry, you can't leave," came Hermione's voice. "We're in detention."  
  
Harry turned briefly. "I'm sorry. Make something up. Say I got sick." And with that, he exited the library without speaking again.  
  
He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he had to get away by himself for awhile.  
  
If the prophecy was correct, he might as well have killed his best friends already.  
  
******************************************  
  
So? Review! Review! 


	20. Prophecies Unfolded

A/N: Wow!! I'm so happy you guys are still interested in this! I LOVED reading all the reviews! Ah! I've missed you guys!!! (  
  
Disclaimer: Still not mine...  
  
****************************************************** Harry woke up early the next morning; he was assured of the fact that it was earlier than normal by the fact that none of his other roommates were yet up and stirring around, even Neville who was always the first one awake. The light inside the dormitory was also a bit darker than normal, and he could tell that it was still in the very wee hours of the morning.  
  
He'd gone straight to bed the night before after leaving his best friends to finish the detention they'd all been assigned to. He was aware of the fact that by leaving the detention early, he'd probably succeeded in either royally pissing off Ron and Hermione or getting himself in a load of trouble if, by chance, a teacher had dropped by to check in on them. Hell, for all he knew, he could have succeeded in doing both. Going to bed early had given him one advantage, though; it had given him time to process all of the information that they'd found out about the so-called prophecy they'd all just found themselves thrown into.  
  
Harry decided that since he definitely was not getting back to sleep anytime soon that he may as well take advantage of his early rising by getting a hot shower for once. He sat up and reached through the curtains surrounding his bed for his glasses, and when he'd placed them on his face and his surroundings came into focus, he pulled back the aforementioned bed- hangings and peered around the dimly lit room. The first thing he noticed was that he had been wrong in his assumption that he was the first Fifth Year Gryffindor boy awake.  
  
Ron was definitely not in his bed.  
  
In fact, the bed next to his was already made neatly. It actually looked as though Ron hadn't slept there at all.  
  
With his curiosity definitely piqued, Harry decided to bypass the warm shower in lieu of a search for his best friend. He got out of bed and crept very quietly across the room so as not to disturb any of his other roommates before he slipped silently through the door and down the hall to the bathroom. If Ron had, by chance, gotten up this early, he was most likely taking a shower of his own, so Harry entered the bathroom only to find three empty shower stalls and three empty toilets. Puzzled, Harry reckoned that the only other place Ron could be would have to be the Common Room. Maybe, by some unlikely chance, he'd gotten up early to study or, more likely, to finish some last minute homework. With this in mind, Harry headed down the stairs that ran adjacent to the boys' side of Gryffindor and led to the Common Room. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, though, he immediately stopped in his tracks.  
  
Ron and Hermione were curled on the couch together, very much asleep in each other's arms.  
  
Harry stared at his best friends silently for a long moment before finally shaking himself of the rather disturbing sight long enough to make up his mind that he needed to observe them from a closer proximity. He quickly made his way across the large room and stopped in front of the sofa where they lay.  
  
To say that they were asleep in each other's arms might have been a bit of exaggeration; Harry saw this upon closer examination. A better description would have been to say that they were asleep and leaning on each other. Well, one of Hermione's arms was draped across Ron's stomach as her face was pressed into his shoulder, but Harry couldn't quite make himself believe that they'd purposely fallen asleep like that- no matter what suspicions he had about the two of them. It was clear that they hadn't meant to doze off. After all, they were still dressed in the same uniforms they'd donned the day before, granted they were a bit crumpled by now.  
  
So, he did the only thing that seemed logical at the moment. He shoved Ron sharply from the left and sent both of them into a jerked awaken state. Hermione actually fell to the side a bit when she'd felt the impact of her makeshift pillow being pushed.  
  
"What the..." Ron looked around, obviously confused by his whereabouts in his newly awaken stupor.  
  
Harry nodded. "Exactly. What the hell?"  
  
Hermione appeared to be having a bit of trouble focusing her eyes because she kept squeezing them shut and then opening them only to blink rapidly and rub at them with the heels of her hands.  
  
Ron was slowly coming out of his confusion and appeared to have finally recognized his best friend. "What time is it?" he asked in a groggy sort of voice.  
  
"Five-thirty," Harry answered briskly.  
  
"In the morning?" Hermione asked through half-opened eyes.  
  
"No," Harry said sarcastically, "at night."  
  
Hermione either missed his sarcasm or chose to ignore it because she didn't comment on it. "We must have fallen asleep down here."  
  
"Do you think?" Harry rolled his eyes.  
  
"Lay off, Harry," Ron answered lazily. Then he shook his head as though being hit abruptly with a valuable piece of information. "What the hell are you doing up anyway?"  
  
Harry sighed before forcibly shoving Hermione over and settling himself in the middle, putting what he figured was a safe distance between the two of them. "Well," he started haughtily, "I woke up for some reason. I know what it was now." He glanced from one of them to the other; Hermione had finally stopped rubbing her eyes. "It was to save the two of you from being the most popular topic of conversation for the next several months."  
  
Ron gave Harry a sharp look. "We just fell asleep while we were talking," he said evenly, and Harry noticed he was making an effort to safely avoid Hermione's eyes at the time.  
  
Harry, upon seeing this, took it upon himself to look at the female beside him. He gave her a suspicious look and then turned the same look to the redhead on his other side. Both of them returned looks of contempt. "Well, be that as it may," he said airily, "no one else would have believed it. Just think if Parvati or Lavender had come down here." He looked pointedly at Hermione. "Or Dean or Seamus." He paused dramatically. "Or, God forbid, Ginny or the twins." He settled the same pointed look on Ron.  
  
There was a moment in which Harry enjoyed a satisfied silence. Until Hermione finally rolled her eyes and said, "Oh, shut up Harry."  
  
Harry was shocked at Hermione's sudden impertinence, as she usually never spoke in such a manner. Especially to him. He distinctly heard Ron snicker behind him as he gaped at the brown-headed girl beside him. He couldn't quite believe that she had the nerve to tell him to shut up.  
  
"Excuse me," he said indignantly. "But I believe I just saved your ass from major embarrassment."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes for a second time. "Well, we wouldn't have even been down here last night if it hadn't been for you, so this is mostly your fault."  
  
Harry was confused and momentarily glanced at Ron who simply looked back at him blankly.  
  
Hermione finished without waiting for him to request an explanation. "We were down here talking about the prophecy, and if you hadn't run out of the library, we could have discussed it while we were finishing up." She crossed her arms over her chest and looked irritably at him.  
  
Harry felt a twinge of guilt at having left his friends to do all of the work themselves, but it still didn't excuse Hermione's very rude sudden behavior. Of course, he and Ron had grown quite used to her sudden mood swings- especially over the last couple of years. It was something they didn't like to think about, obviously. "Well, sorry," Harry said quickly, avoiding her eye.  
  
Ron was still silent, and Hermione obviously chose that moment to forgive him completely because she smiled at him and shook her head. "Oh, it's okay."  
  
Harry raised a curious eyebrow at her but smartly decided not to say anything. He chanced a glance at Ron who raised his own eyebrows in a silent agreement that Hermione was definitely acting a little strangely.  
  
"We did decide something, though," Hermione continued as though she hadn't just two seconds before told Harry to shut up. "We really need to tell someone about that book."  
  
Harry looked again at Ron who kind of half-shrugged. He looked back at Hermione and said, "Who do think will believe us?"  
  
Hermione looked around uneasily and then finally voiced her opinion. "We need to tell Dumbledore."  
  
"No," Harry said flatly. "He'll make too much out of it and start fussing over us even more than he already is."  
  
"Well, what about Professor McGonagall?" Hermione asked quickly, as if she'd expected Harry to shoot down the idea of Dumbledore.  
  
But the idea of McGonagall was even more laughable than the one of the Headmaster. "Are you crazy, Hermione?" Harry asked honestly. "McGonagall will have a fit, and she'll probably banish us to the Gryffindor Common Room for the rest of our lives. She won't let us play Quidditch; she probably won't even let us go to the bathroom by ourselves!"  
  
"We could talk to Snape!" Ron piped up in what was an obvious attempt to lighten the mood.  
  
Harry snorted, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "That's not even funny," she said indignantly.  
  
Harry sighed. "We need to talk to Sirius." Ron and Hermione both nodded solemnly in agreement. "But I don't even know where he is."  
  
Suddenly, though, Ron perked up. "Well, we may not know where Sirius is, but we know where Professor Lupin is!"  
  
Harry could have slapped himself for not thinking of Lupin himself. Of course he was the obvious choice! "Ron, you're a genius!"  
  
Hermione snorted. Ron glared at her.  
  
Harry ignored them and continued. "Let's all get dressed and then stop by his office before breakfast."  
  
Ron and Hermione nodded. Hermione stood up and attempted to straighten out her skirt. "I'm going to go get a shower," she announced.  
  
Ron grinned at her, obviously teasing, and said, "Thank God."  
  
Harry snickered, and he half-expected Hermione to, too, but to his surprise she glared dangerously at the pair of them. "Oh, you can both shove off."  
  
With that, Hermione whipped around and started toward the staircase that would take her to her dormitory, angry at both of the idiotic boys she called best friends for being stupid prats.. However, just as she'd almost gotten out of hearing distance of her friends, she distinctly heard Ron's voice mutter the words, "Someone has PMS..." and Harry's snicker of agreement.  
  
This was just too much.  
  
Whipping back around, she stared at the two of them with a look she knew would frighten anyone. "PMS?" she queried, forcing her voice to stay even.  
  
She saw the look of surprise on both of their faces at the fact that she had heard them. Ron glanced at Harry, and they both sort of unconsciously backed away from Hermione. Ron tried to stutter an explanation, as it was quite clear that he was in deep trouble. "Well... er... I... uh..."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head rapidly to shut him up. Then, in a voice louder than the previous one, she started her tirade. "I do not have PMS, thank you! Boys think that everything in the world can be blamed on PMS!" With that, she threw her hands into the air in exasperation. "Girls don't have PMS 365 days a year for your information. And if you really want to know, I just got off my period three days ago; therefore, my next one is not due to start until November 11th, and PMS should start about a week before that." She smiled a bit sardonically at the look of horror on both boys' faces. "So, if the two of you want to make a calendar or something to keep up, then be my guest!" With a final glare, she turned on her heel and marched to her dormitory with her head held high.  
  
There was a long moment of silence in which both boys were quite sickened. Finally, they looked at each other with identical expressions of disgust. Ron actually shuddered as he said, "That was just a little too much information."  
  
Harry nodded in unwavering agreement. "But maybe we should make a calendar..."  
  
Ron looked dazed and shrugged. "If she doesn't have PMS, then I wonder what's up her ass."  
  
Harry shrugged, too, bewildered, and said, "Is there such a thing as Post- Menstrual Syndrome?"  
  
Ron snickered a bit and then got a very confused look on his face. "Why the hell are we discussing Hermione's menstrual cycle in the first place?"  
  
Harry paused for a moment, pondering the question himself. Then he rolled his eyes and hit Ron across the forearm. "You started it!"  
  
Ron still looked a little confused as he nodded absently. "Oh, yeah..." Then he shook himself out of his daze and looked at Harry. "But I didn't want to know all that!"  
  
"Me either," Harry said very honestly.  
  
There was another moment of silence, and both boys found themselves thinking the conversation over in their heads despite the sickening feeling they got when thinking of Hermione and her "own special time of the month."  
  
Finally, Ron shook himself again. "Well, we better shower then, huh?" He said this airily and bit strangely.  
  
Harry, who felt exactly the same way Ron sounded, nodded absently and said, "Yeah..."  
  
*********************************************************  
  
It took Professor Lupin several moments to answer his door after the three friends knocked. In fact, they'd almost given up on his being there and were about to turn around and head back to Gryffindor. Just as they were turning around, though, the door opened, and Remus Lupin looked out to survey the knockers.  
  
"Well, what brings the three of you by?" he asked good-naturedly, as he grinned at them.  
  
"We need to talk to you," Harry answered with an uneasy glance at Ron and Hermione.  
  
"Well, come in," the professor held the door open for the three students who entered silently and all seated themselves on a single sofa that sat in the corner of the rather small office. Professor Lupin shut the door behind them and turned back to his pupils. "Would you like some tea?"  
  
Ron nodded and answered for all of them. "Please."  
  
Harry hadn't really come to the Defense Against the Dark Arts' teacher's office for a cup of tea, but he didn't say anything as Lupin conjured up a kettle of hot tea and poured them each a cupful. He politely thanked the teacher when he was given his own cup and took a few sips to avoid appearing rude.  
  
"Professor Lupin, we were in the library last night serving detention, and we found something rather disturbing." Well, Hermione certainly didn't waste any time at getting to the point, did she?  
  
Lupin raised a thin eyebrow at the young woman curiously. "What did you find, Miss Granger?"  
  
Hermione set her teacup down on a small side table and addressed the professor eye to eye. "We found some information on the Dark Wizard Manicalt who lived five-hundred years ago. Have you ever heard of him?"  
  
Lupin nodded, his eyes keen with curiosity. "Yes, I've studied him."  
  
"Well, then surely you know that he was defeated by three Hogwarts students."  
  
Lupin looked at Hermione silently for a moment before turning his head to take in the sight of Ron and Harry to her left. Finally, he turned back to Hermione and answered her. "Yes, I'm familiar with the story."  
  
Hermione sighed. "Well, apparently there is an ancient prophecy that another Dark Wizard would rise five-hundred years later and rival three more students." She hesitated for a moment and cast a side-glance at the two boys beside her. "Three students who sound an awful lot like us."  
  
There was another silence in which Harry was sure Professor Lupin was trying to process the information and come up with a logical explanation for the prophecy. However, all he got as a response from the teacher was, "Yes, I am aware of that as well."  
  
"What?!" Harry suddenly looked up in shock at the man across from him. "You know about this prophecy?!"  
  
Lupin sighed and sat down in a leather chair. "Of course I know about it." He said this as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "All of your professors know about it. Why do you think Hermione wasn't chosen as a Prefect?"  
  
Hermione's eyes widened just a bit. "But Professor McGonagall said it was because I was in danger. Not because I was supposed to be saving the world!"  
  
"Welcome to the club," came a quiet, almost bitter whisper from Harry.  
  
"Well, that's because you're not supposed to be saving the world," Lupin said, either not hearing Harry or choosing not to comment. "Not exactly anyway."  
  
"What do you mean 'not exactly?'" Ron had joined the conversation after being silent for awhile. "What are we supposed to be doing?"  
  
Yet another silence followed this question. Finally, Lupin regarded them all with somewhat sympathetic eyes. "I can't tell you."  
  
"What?!" Harry couldn't quite believe he was hearing correctly. "You can't tell us?! That's insane!"  
  
"I can't tell you," Lupin continued with an almost irritated glance at Harry, "because I don't know. No one knows."  
  
Harry could feel a headache coming on, and he wasn't at all sure how to make sense of anything he was hearing. He glanced at his two best friends and saw that they appeared to be just as confused as he was by the explanation being offered to them.  
  
"It's something that you have to figure out on your own," he continued. "No one can tell you how it's going to unfold- only that this is your destiny."  
  
"You sound like Trelawney," Ron said dismissively. "This is just a bit too much."  
  
Hermione spoke after a moment of processing the information. "You said that all the professors know about this. How long have you known?"  
  
"Well, we've known about Harry since he was a baby," he answered with a quick glance at the dark-haired boy. "And we knew that there would be two more, but we just didn't know who until the two of you started school. It became completely clear after the Philosopher's Stone incident."  
  
Harry let out a sound of disbelief. "You mean to tell me that you've all known about this damn prophecy or whatever the hell it is for five years, and no one has bothered to tell us?!" He was more angry than anything by this point.  
  
Lupin started to say something, but Ron cut him off with a sarcastic remark. "Oh, no, Harry. You should feel exceptionally loved. They've known about you for fourteen years."  
  
The teacher shot a sharp look at the redhead and then turned back to Harry. "We couldn't tell you. It was something you had to find out on your own."  
  
"Just like we're supposed to find out what it all means on our own, huh?" Harry asked incredulously. "This is fantastic." The bitterness was completely evident in his tone.  
  
With a sigh, Lupin struggled to keep himself calm. "Look. No one picked you for this; no one woke up one day and decided that Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger were going to be responsible for conquering the Dark Lord. It just happened because it's what you were put here to do. You can't choose your own destiny."  
  
"Obviously," Hermione said with a slight roll of the eyes.  
  
"We're all here to help you in any way that we can," Lupin continued. "But when it comes down to it, the three of you are the ones who have to figure it all out."  
  
"So, what are we supposed to do?" Harry asked finally. "Just hang around and do nothing until Voldemort comes to capture us?"  
  
Ron and Hermione both looked visibly shaken by this image, but they both refrained from speaking long enough to allow their teacher to offer up some sort of explanation.  
  
"No, there are other things you can do. You still have that book that Sirius sent you for your birthday, don't you?"  
  
Harry glanced at Hermione who had taken over the book quite soon after he'd received it. She nodded.  
  
"Well," Lupin continued, "I suggest that you start studying it. There are many things in there that will be helpful to you."  
  
"Like the wandless thing," Ron finished. "We already know about that. What else can we do?"  
  
"You could start," Lupin said a little irritably, "by actually paying attention in class." He was directing his comment to Ron and Harry. "You could probably pick up on a lot of useful things in your everyday lectures- things that could prove most beneficial to you."  
  
"Hermione pays attention," Ron said indignantly. "We can just ask her if we need something like that."  
  
"Did it ever occur to you, Ron," Lupin asked smoothly, "that if and when something does happen, the three of you will be separated?"  
  
Ron scowled.  
  
"And right now," he said, not allowing anyone else to comment, "I think you should visit Professor Dumbledore."  
  
"We're not going to see Dumbledore," Harry said adamantly. "He'll just get all worried and make too much out of it."  
  
"Make too much out of it?" It appeared as though Lupin couldn't quite be sure if he'd heard correctly. "Harry, do you realize how serious this is?"  
  
"I realize that no one is going to help us, so we might as well stick to ourselves," Harry said promptly. Ron and Hermione both nodded their agreement.  
  
Lupin sighed. "The childish pouting will do you no good."  
  
"It's not childish pouting!" Everyone looked at Hermione after her sudden outburst. She had jumped to her feet and was staring at their teacher daringly. "Do you have any idea how unfair this is?! Of course you don't!" She threw her hands into the air as she answered her own question. "No one came up to you when you were fifteen and said, 'Oh, by the way, Remus. We want you to save the world. Oh, and bring a few friends along for the ride.' Now did they?"  
  
If Professor Lupin was shocked by the sudden outrage of the school's top student, he didn't show it. He simply stared back at the young witch and spoke in a calm voice. "No, they didn't. But do you know what did happen?" He glanced briefly at her and then to the two boys and finally back to her. "Someone came up to me a few years ago and told me that one of my best childhood friends was trying to kill the son of one of my other best friends. And then, come to find out, it was yet another best friend who was actually to blame. Now, talk about a lot to take in in a short period of time."  
  
"What does that have to do with us?" Harry asked and then shook his head and said, "Besides the obvious?"  
  
"It proves that sometimes things happen that you can't believe. Things happen that you would never dream would even take place. Things happen that you have no control over, but you still have to deal with them." He looked at all three teenagers. "That's what it has to do with you."  
  
There was a moment of silence in which all three students thought about what he'd just said. Finally, Hermione retook her seat on the sofa and looked up at the teacher expectantly.  
  
Lupin was very calm as he finished his explanation. "And I know it's unfair. But trust me when I say this, it wouldn't be your destiny if you couldn't handle it. You're the chosen ones for a reason."  
  
************************************************************  
  
So? PLEASE review!!!! 


	21. And the Ball Draws Closer

A/N: I want to say BIG thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! You guys are the best!!!  
  
Also, I want to address a couple of the topics brought up in the reviews. Someone asked why I had Hermione just turning fifteen, and my reason is that I just have a feeling that she's the youngest of the three. It never says in the book when the cut-off date is for new enrollment, so it is just my personal opinion that Ron is the oldest, Harry is the middle, and Hermione is the youngest. I've read several discussions of this, and no one has been able to give any real proof other than the fact that at the end of the third book, Dumbledore says, "two thirteen year old wizards" when addressing Harry and Hermione. If Hermione was older, then she would be fourteen.  
  
Also, someone asked me to say arse instead of ass. LOL, I really despise it when people overuse the word arse. I have several friends from Britain, and they rarely say arse. I really think it's overused, so that's why I mostly say ass. But I do welcome any comments from anyone who feels this story is too Americanized because I really do worry about that a lot. So thank you.  
  
Disclaimer: Still not mine, but I would be more than willing to take over from the elusive Ms. Rowling...  
  
***************************************** The next night Harry and Ron trudged through the door to the fifth year boys' dorm with their Quidditch equipment over their shoulders. Alicia had run them ragged in preparation for the upcoming match against Slytherin; that girl might as well have had the words "Oliver Wood, Jr." tattooed on her forehead. They were both tired and thinking only of showers and soft beds. What they found when they entered their room, though, was Dean and Seamus staring at them with identical smirks.  
  
"What's up?" Ron asked as he slung his broomstick onto his bed and turned to face his roommates.  
  
Dean was the first to speak. He was grinning like mad as he addressed a question directly to Ron. "Are you really going to the dance with Hermione?"  
  
Ron turned a little red, but he nodded nonetheless. "Yeah..."  
  
"How the hell did you manage that?!" Dean asked in somewhat disbelief.  
  
Harry sat his Firebolt on top of his trunk and carefully turned to listen to the rest of the conversation.  
  
Ron was looking at Dean with raised eyebrows. "What's wrong with Hermione?"  
  
"Nothing's wrong with her!" Seamus interjected loudly. "She's totally hot!"  
  
"Yeah," Dean piped. "How did you get Padma Patil last year and Hermione Granger this year? What is your secret, man?"  
  
Ron was looking very confused. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"Why do all the pretty girls go for you?" Seamus asked in somewhat awe.  
  
"Are you going out with her?" Dean asked, wide-eyed.  
  
"No!" Ron said quickly. "We're just friends."  
  
"So, you haven't snogged her or anything?" Seamus asked, a gleeful expression on his face.  
  
"No!"  
  
Harry felt himself get a little queasy at the mere thought of Ron and Hermione kissing.  
  
"Good!" Seamus answered just as gleefully. "I still have a chance to score with her then!"  
  
Dean laughed, but Harry saw Ron grow completely infuriated. "Don't even try it!" he threatened, taking a menacing step toward the Irish boy.  
  
"Why not?" Seamus asked dismissively. "If you're not getting any play out of her, someone should be at least. She's too hot to let go to waste."  
  
This sealed the deal. Ron lunged at Seamus and swung his fist forcefully. Seamus barely ducked in time.  
  
"What the hell is your problem?!" he asked incredulously.  
  
Ron glared at him. "Don't talk about her like that!"  
  
Seamus rolled his eyes. "I was only kidding!"  
  
"Yeah," Dean said cautiously. "Calm down, Ron."  
  
Ron glared at him for a moment longer. "Don't even think about trying anything with her."  
  
Harry watched as Seamus rolled his eyes again. "It was just a joke, man! Damn! And why do you even care so much anyway?"  
  
Ron pursed his lips. "Because she's my friend! How would you feel if I said something like that about your best friend?"  
  
The other Gryffindor boys laughed instantly, and Ron finally loosened up and laughed, too, when Seamus said, "Well, I'd be a little worried for Dean. I really don't think he swings that way."  
  
"And you would be thinking right," Dean said adamantly.  
  
"Shut up," Ron snickered. Then he rolled his eyes. "How did you even find out that I was going with Hermione anyway?"  
  
"Lavender told us."  
  
"And who did Lavender hear it from?" Ron asked with raised eyebrows.  
  
Dean answered that question. "She heard it from Parvati."  
  
"And Parvati heard it from..." Ron shook his head.  
  
Seamus sighed. "Lavender heard it from Parvati who heard it from Padma who heard it from Terry Boot who heard it from Hannah Abbot who heard it from Ernie Macmillan who heard it from Justin Finch-Fletchley who heard it from Dennis Creevey who heard it from Colin Creevey who heard it from Ginny Weasley who heard it from Fred and George who heard it from Harry."  
  
Ron processed all of that and said, "Nice to know good news travels fast..." while turning to narrow his eyes at the only person he had told.  
  
Harry smiled weakly, not having expected the news to circulate that quickly. He'd only accidentally let it slip to the twins, after all.  
  
********************************  
  
The weeks approaching the ball started to grow shorter and shorter, and four days before the big event, Harry found himself sitting in the Common Room watching Ron beat a totally helpless Hermione at a game of chess. He also found himself completely dateless.  
  
Girls had continued to ask him even after word of the tail and snout he'd given Valerie Priers leaked out. But he said no to all of them, always holding out a glimmer of hope that Cho might turn up and ask him. He'd already made up his mind not to ask her, but he couldn't say that if she turned the tables that he would turn her down. She didn't, however; in fact, Cho had obviously made an effort to avoid Harry as much as possible since the start of the new school year. She wasn't rude or anything like that, but she never went out of her way to speak to him. And the most conversation he ever got out of her was the occasional smile and nod shared in passing through the corridors. But he still tried to hold onto some ounce of hope that she would ask him. However, when he'd heard three mornings ago at breakfast that she was going with a Seventh Year Slytherin named Justin Ramor, all hopes were dashed. He had passed up all of his other options, and he had a sinking feeling that he was going to experience a dateless night on Halloween. He'd even considered asking Ginny Weasley (strictly as a friend, of course), but she'd turned up the very same day Harry had learned about Cho and Justin and announced that she was going with Colin Creevey. So that hope was dashed, too.  
  
He was watching the chess game glumly, not even attempting to make any sort of conversation with his two best friends who kept giving him sidelong glances of curiosity. And when the portrait hole opened, he didn't even bother to look up and see which occupant of Gryffindor Tower had just come in.  
  
Not that he had much a choice, though.  
  
The person, or rather persons, who had entered promptly made their way over to the chess game and momentarily caused a halt in it. Harry looked up when their trio was suddenly turned into a quintet and was a bit surprised to see Lavender and Parvati grinning directly at him.  
  
"Hi, Harry." It was Parvati who had spoken, and she took it upon herself to sit on the armrest of Ron's chair, earning herself a rather odd look from the redhead and a rather icy glare from the brunette across from him. Parvati ignored both Ron and Hermione, though, and kept her focus on Harry. "How are you doing?"  
  
Harry was eyeing her carefully, very aware that whatever scene was about to play out would surely be quite embarrassing on his part. Casually, he answered her. "Fine, I guess."  
  
Parvati grinned again. "Good." She then briefly let her gaze drift over Ron and Hermione before turning back to the raven-haired boy and saying in an equally casual of voice, "So, have you got a date to the Ball yet?"  
  
Harry did his very best to ignore the stifled snicker that came from his best friend, but it was no use. He sighed inwardly, willing himself not to be rude. "No," he said waveringly. Then, just to be polite, he said, "Have you?"  
  
To his surprise, Parvati smiled and nodded. "Oh, I'm going with Devon Ellington from Ravenclaw. My sister hooked us up."  
  
Harry couldn't hide the furrowed brow that gave away his confusion, but before he could voice any of it, she kept speaking.  
  
"And Lavender was supposed to be going with Christian Macmillan, but he suddenly decided to get back together with his ex-girlfriend, you know, Mindy Myers?" Harry didn't know, but he nodded anyway in an attempt to get her to hurry up. She took a breath and finished up. "And so now Lav doesn't have a date, and we hadn't heard anything about you having one, either. So, if you want to go with her, she'd be willing." She ended this with another quick grin.  
  
Harry processed the very fast-spoken information and pretended like he couldn't tell that Ron's sudden cough was supposed to be hiding giddy laughter. He turned his head slightly to the left and looked at Lavender who was smiling shyly at him. She opened her blue eyes slightly wider than normal in what Harry knew was a repeat of Parvati's sort of proposal. His first instinct was to say no, but then he remembered that he had no real reason to be holding out and that the dance was only four days away. Lavender might be his last chance. His last decent chance anyway. So, sighing only briefly, he shrugged and said, "Okay."  
  
Parvati and Lavender instantly broke into simultaneously giggles that made Harry flinch, Ron snicker, and Hermione roll her eyes.  
  
"Okay, then," Parvati said as she stood up. "Goodnight." She flashed them all smiles before turning and heading toward the stairway.  
  
"Goodnight," Lavender echoed with a mirroring smile, though hers was directed only at Harry.  
  
Harry tried to force a return smile, but he was afraid it looked a little too much like the grimace it felt like. Lavender didn't seem to notice as she hurried away to catch up with her best friend. Their giggling was heard all the way up the stairs.  
  
Harry made a very conscious attempt to not make eye-contact with the two people he could feel staring at him. When he realized this was impossible, though, he looked up at his best friends slowly. Ron was wearing a rather amused smirk, and his lips were pursed knowingly. Hermione was looking at Harry as though she didn't know whether to pat him on the back and express her sympathies or have him committed.  
  
She obviously opted for the latter.  
  
Because seconds later, she burst out with, "Have you gone mad, Harry?! Lavender Brown?!"  
  
This caused Ron to snicker all over again, and Harry could feel himself turning bright red. Quietly, he tried to defend himself. "Well, I haven't got a whole lot of choice, do I? The ball is in a few days, and everyone else is already taken."  
  
"But all those other girls asked you," Hermione pointed out a bit more calmly. "And you said no to all of them."  
  
Harry really wasn't in the mood to go into the reason why he had turned down all the other invitations, but a second long glance at Ron told him that at least one of his best friends already knew the reason. He blushed at this realization but continued to address Hermione nonetheless. "Well, I just sort of let it sneak up on me. I just suddenly realized I only had four days left."  
  
"But Lavender Brown?" Hermione was looking at him in the most confused of ways.  
  
"Well, she's probably the only pretty girl in the school that doesn't already have a date," Ron spoke up earnestly. The second he'd said this, though, it was clear that he regretted it. It was all too reminiscent of the previous year's ball- an event that all three of them would just as well have removed from their memories.  
  
Hermione looked at Ron blankly for a moment before her expression turned to one of slight offense. She was obviously remembering the Yule Ball, too, and it was, perhaps, the most painful for her.  
  
Ron was looking at her warily, and he didn't speak for several moments, as he was clearly trying to think up the right sort of apologetic move. Finally, he looked sincerely at her and said, "Uh, I just mean, you know... It's getting close..." He spoke quietly and then glanced down at his hands shamefully.  
  
There was silence among them for another moment before Hermione finally stood up and announced that she was going to bed. Without so much as a goodnight to either boy, she turned and followed her roommates up the stairs.  
  
When she had gone, Harry looked back at Ron who was still looking at the staircase Hermione had just ascended. He didn't say anything until the redhead finally gave up and turned to meet his eye.  
  
"I'm such an idiot."  
  
Ron's expression of himself was not totally disagreed with by Harry. However, Harry, being the best friend that he was, decided to take mercy and be sympathetic. "She'll get over it." Okay, well maybe sympathetic wasn't the exact correct word choice.  
  
Ron looked away for a second and then back. "I didn't mean for it to come out like that."  
  
Harry could tell that he was being sincere, and he told him so. "I know. It's just that Hermione's really sensitive, and little things set her off." He attempted a smile. "Don't worry about it."  
  
Ron shrugged glumly and started gathering up the now asleep chess pieces. Once he had them all soundly in the velvet bag that was their home, he said, "I'm going to bed, too."  
  
Harry nodded and watched his best friend walk slowly up the opposite staircase of the one that Hermione had just taken.  
  
He finally sighed to himself, not knowing what to make of anything at all lately.  
  
********************************  
  
"Are you excited about the ball, Hermione?" Lavender was looking intently at the other girl across the room much to Hermione's annoyance.  
  
Hermione looked up from the Transfiguration book open on her lap and gave a half-shrug before looking back down at her work. "I guess so."  
  
"Is Harry excited?" It was clear by this point that this question had been the original intention of the conversation.  
  
Hermione bit her tongue to refrain from saying that Harry was looking forward to the Halloween Ball about as much as he was looking forward to returning to the Dursleys in June. Instead, she gave another half-shrug and said, "I guess so," once again.  
  
Parvati spoke up, not being able to hold her opinion to herself for a second longer. "Well, Lav," she said matter-of-factly, "I just hope you have a better time with him than I did last year."  
  
Hermione looked up from her homework and frowned at her dark-haired roommate. "You can't blame Harry," she said hastily. "He had a lot on his mind last year."  
  
"Yeah," Parvati said sullenly. "A lot of Cho Chang."  
  
Hermione watched as her roommates snickered, and she couldn't help but feel a little annoyed with them. She didn't know how they knew about Harry's crush on Cho, but after a second's thought, she realized they probably knew the same way she did.  
  
It was painfully obvious.  
  
Not being able to resist defending her friend, she said, "Well, you certainly didn't waste anytime replacing him, Parvati."  
  
Parvati's snicker turned into a rather cold look. "Well, can you blame me? Of course, it's not like you have anything to compare it to since your date was at your beck and call all night long. Not to mention the fact that you're the reason my sister had an equally awful date."  
  
"What is that supposed to mean?" Hermione set her book aside, focusing completely on the now slightly heated conversation.  
  
"Don't play dumb, Hermione," Parvati said hastily. "It's not an easy act for you to pull off."  
  
Lavender laughed at this, but Hermione ignored her. "I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
Parvati sighed loudly. "Ron!"  
  
"What about him?" Hermione was definitely not in the mood to defend both of her best friends, even though she was rather exasperated with both of them at the moment, but she could already see that that was exactly the direction in which this conversation was headed.  
  
"Oh, please," Lavender piped up. "Don't even pretend like you don't know that Ron was eyeing you like a hawk on the prowl at last year's ball. Padma didn't have a chance!"  
  
Hermione could barely feel her cheeks tinge pink. She looked away for only a second before turning back to her roommates. "That is absolutely ridiculous."  
  
"Oh, is it?" questioned Parvati.  
  
"Yes," she answered without hesitation. "Ron was not watching me the entire night, and if he was, it was because he was being a complete and total prat. You both know that he accused me of fraternizing with the enemies because I went to the ball with Viktor! I can't help it if he's stupid." She paused for only a second before finishing with, "Trust me. I've tried many times."  
  
Lavender and Parvati both rolled their eyes, obviously not convinced. "Keep denying it, Hermione," Parvati said coolly. "But you can't deny the fact that you agreed to go with him this year."  
  
Hermione felt the pink rise into her cheeks for a second time. "We're going because we're friends. It is possible to be friends with a boy and not be anything else." She surveyed both roommates for a second before adding, "But maybe you two can't comprehend that."  
  
"Whatever you say, Hermione," Lavender said with a wispy air. "You can try and deny it all you want, but we've had the two of you matched since second year."  
  
Hermione wanted to roll her eyes and go back to her studying, but some rotten little thing was making her more and more curious. Not wishing to lose her calm, cool, and collected bit, though, she tried to ask in the most inconspicuous of ways. "What are you talking about?" Okay, so maybe it wasn't that completely inconspicuous.  
  
Parvati grinned, quite obviously thrilled to fill Hermione in on her and her best friend's matchmaking decisions. "Well, we figured it out when you were petrified. But, of course, you don't remember that."  
  
Well, that much was true anyway. Hermione didn't remember anything about the time that she spent in the hospital wing during second year completely petrified.  
  
Parvati continued. "Well, when you first got put into the hospital we all were just shocked. Because, you know, we all thought it was Harry at that time, but we knew he wouldn't do anything to you. So, we were all sort of just completely bewildered as to who the actual person was that was committing all these terrible acts." She paused for what Hermione figured could only be dramatic effect. "But Ron..." she smiled slightly. "Ron was a total mess!"  
  
"Yes!" Lavender piped up. "He nearly killed Malfoy in Potions one day because Malfoy said something about wishing you'd been the one to die or something like that." Hermione felt her blood heat up a bit. "And it took Harry and Dean both to hold him back!"  
  
Hermione wasn't quite sure what this had to do with she and Ron being destined for each other. "So? Ron always tries to kill Malfoy."  
  
"True," Parvati agreed absently. "But I've never seen him as furious as he was that time. He said he was going to kill him with his bare hands!"  
  
"Yes," Lavender said adamantly. "And only because Malfoy said something mean about you."  
  
Well, that certainly wasn't anything new. Hadn't they noticed that Ron tried to kill anyone who ever said anything bad about her? She herself had noticed it many, many times, but she couldn't help noticing that he didn't waste any time in saying bad things about her himself. But she knew it was just like a sibling thing- how you can tease your sister, but the second someone else does, it's time to go in for the kill.  
  
It just went onto prove that Ron thought of her in the same way he thought of the rest of his siblings. Hermione pointed this out to her roommates.  
  
"Ron has never tried to kill anyone because they said something rude about Percy," Lavender said matter-of-factly.  
  
"Well, Percy's different," Hermione said quickly. "You see how protective he is of Ginny."  
  
"But that's different," Parvati said adamantly. "He has to act like that about her because she's his sister."  
  
"Well, he has to act that way about me, too," countered Hermione. "Because I'm his best friend."  
  
"He doesn't act that way about Harry." Parvati raised both eyebrows in defiance.  
  
But Hermione wasn't going to be defied. "Yes, he does. Ron has defended Harry loads of times!"  
  
"But not to the extent that he does you, Hermione." Parvati shook her head. "He was really going to kill Malfoy that day!"  
  
Hermione huffed up a little and finally said, "Well, so what? Ron would use any excuse he could find to kill Malfoy!"  
  
"Hermione, please!" Lavender was quite exasperated by this point. "You can't sit there and pretend like you don't know that Ron likes you and has for awhile now."  
  
"I don't know it," Hermione said in her own defiance, "because it isn't true."  
  
"Whatever." Parvati rolled her eyes, and Lavender followed suit.  
  
After that, they decided to drop the subject and let Hermione get back to her Transfiguration. The only problem was that Hermione couldn't concentrate on Transfiguration to save her life. Every single thing that Parvati and Lavender said kept sneaking its way back into her brain and settling there- completely cutting off any chance that she might have had at studying. 


	22. Wow Just About Sums It All Up

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long, but I hadn't written a lot of the ball scenes this summer, so I had to really start this chapter from scratch. I hope you guys like it, and I'm really sorry for the delay!  
  
Disclaimer: Nope!  
  
********************************************  
  
Halloween night seemed to happen almost instantaneously after Harry had accepted Lavender's date. He could hardly believe that four days had passed as he stood nervously in the Common Room with Ron and the other Gryffindor boys waiting for the girls to finally grace them with their presence.. At the thought of Ron, he turned his head to survey his best friend and saw that Ron appeared to be even more nervous than he was. Harry wasn't sure whether this was due to the fact that there was a ball period or if it had more to do with the fact that he was taking Hermione. He'd managed to patch things up between them the morning after he'd unconsciously offended her, but he was still acting very strangely around her, overly formal and much more nervous than he should have been.  
  
Harry was so caught up in the whims of whatever Ron and Hermione had that it took Ron's breathing of, "Wow," to make him look up and take notice of his surroundings.  
  
Wow just about summed it up.  
  
Lavender, Parvati, and Hermione were all coming down the stairs together, and Harry's first thought was that he'd never seen any of them look quite so pretty. Parvati's hair was completely up for once, and it was twisted into several knots all over the back of her head. She was wearing red robes that contrasted brilliantly with her jet-black hair and stood out nicely against her dark skin. Lavender was wearing robes of baby blue that seemed to cling to her in what Harry had to admit were all the right places. But it was Hermione who really made him look twice. Her hair, which had been straight for the last months, was now curled again, though this time into soft ringlets that hung down her back loosely. She was dressed in robes of pale purple material, and on her wrist, she wore the silver bracelet with the violet charm that Ron had given her for her birthday.  
  
"Hey, guys!" Hermione said brightly when the girls had made it to the bottom of the stairs.  
  
Harry smiled at her. "Hey, 'Mione." He was about to tell her that she looked pretty, but he found his hand being grabbed by an obviously overzealous Lavender.  
  
"Come on, Harry," she said quickly before dragging him away toward the portrait hole.  
  
He was gone so quickly that Ron and Hermione barely had time to notice that they were now alone. Well, as alone as they could be in a room where several people were coupling or grouping up. They glanced at each other a bit nervously, and a rather awkward silence surrounded them until Ron finally managed to speak.  
  
"Your hair's curly again." It was an obvious observation and one that Ron hoped sounded casual enough to get some sort of conversation started between them.  
  
Hermione smiled a little as she unconsciously reached up to touch one of the ringlets. "Curly," she said with a grin. "Not frizzy. There is a difference."  
  
Ron nodded, still nervous, and managed to offer up somewhat of a compliment. "It looks good like that."  
  
Hermione's grin didn't fade as she looked at him and sincerely said, "Thanks."  
  
Ron nodded yet again and appeared to be trying to come up with something else to say. When it was clear that he wasn't going to succeed anytime soon, Hermione swallowed and came up with something of her own.  
  
"You got new dress robes." This was also an obvious observation, and Hermione prayed that it, too, sounded casual enough.  
  
Ron glanced down at the dark gray robes and nodded a little. "Yeah. No more maroon."  
  
Hermione smiled again. "They weren't so bad. Maroon's a good color for you."  
  
Ron met her eyes with a curious expression before Hermione started to blush slightly under his gaze. She swallowed and tried to move on from the comment. "I wonder what we're going to have for dinner." Food was always a good choice of an aversion conversation when it came to dealing with Ron Weasley.  
  
He was obvious quite grateful for her change in topic because he answered her quickly. "I don't know. Probably something really good, I bet."  
  
Hermione nodded in agreement. "Probably."  
  
And then came the silence all over again.  
  
Ron pretended to study the wall, and Hermione pretended to study the floor beneath her feet. And while they both knew what the other was doing, neither one of them called the other on it. Finally, though, Hermione looked up and tried to force a smile. "Well, we should probably be going."  
  
Ron, looking very much relieved that she had broken the silence which was threatening to choke him, nodded hurriedly. "Yes, you're probably right."  
  
They looked at each other yet again, and Ron knew that Hermione was waiting on him to make the first move toward the exit just as he was waiting on her to do the same thing. When it was painfully clear that they could very obviously stay there for hours trying to subconsciously trick the other into the taking the first step, Hermione finally grew bored and nodded one ambitious nod. "Right then. Let's go." She turned and started toward the portrait hole.  
  
Ron watched her for only a second before he got enough sense into him to follow her. They walked silently all the way down to the Great Hall, trying very hard to pretend that the deafening awkwardness was not surrounding them. When they reached the Great Hall, they found that it was set up very closely to the way it had been set up for the Yule Ball; there were hundreds of round tables around the edge of the room, and the center was empty for use of a dance floor. They both spotted the table where their friends were sitting. Lavender and Harry were there, and so were Parvati and that Ravenclaw Devon. Obviously, the Patil twins had decided to hook each other up because Dean had gone to the ball with Padma and was looking quite pleased with the arrangement. Seamus had gone alone, stating that without a date, it would be much easier for him to get action. No one was really sure how that would exactly work, but no one said too much about it. Neville had been coaxed into sitting with his date's friends and was looking quite out of place at a table of several fourth year Hufflepuffs. Ron instantly caught Harry's eye and was met with a look that clearly said, "Get your ass over here and save me."  
  
"Let's go sit over there," he said to Hermione, breaking the silence that had been surrounding them for several moments. Hermione nodded and followed Ron to the table that still had three empty chairs, room for one more couple and Seamus' nonexistent date.  
  
They were greeted with various, "Heys," from around the table, and they smiled and returned the greetings. Ron, having been raised properly, knew enough to pull Hermione's chair out for her before seating himself. He tried very hard not to look at her to see her reaction, but when she thanked him quietly, he had no choice but smile shyly in reply. Parvati, Lavender, and Padma all erupted into quiet giggles, obviously thinking the gesture quite sweet.  
  
Small talk was made around the table, so, thankfully, there was no more awkward silence. The meals were served in basically the same manner as they had been at the Yule Ball with the spoken menu option, and everyone enjoyed their meals for the most part. It wasn't until they were waiting for dessert to be served that any of them started thinking about the actual dance part of the night, which was due to start anytime soon.  
  
Lavender had spent twenty minutes telling Harry some story about the kitten she'd acquired over the summer and how she missed it terribly. Harry had pretended to be interested while really counting every single spaghetti noodle on his plate. When Lavender finally took a breath to turn away and tell Parvati something, Harry put a hand to the side of his face and turned his head in Ron's direction. Quietly, he said, "Give me your wand."  
  
Ron looked at him as if he were mad and said, "Why?"  
  
"So, I can kill myself." Harry groaned and rolled his eyes into the back of his head.  
  
Ron laughed, and Hermione leaned around to survey the situation. She saw Harry, his fingers tangling tightly into his hair and his eyes quite unfocused. She grinned a little before glancing at Lavender and then back to Harry and mouthing, "I told you."  
  
Harry glared icily at her before raising a single middle finger to slide his glasses higher onto his nose. Hermione's eyes widened, but she joined Ron's laughter, knowing that Harry was playing.  
  
Just as Lavender turned back around and drew Harry's attention back to herself, Hermione leaned over to whisper in Ron's ear. "Looks like Harry's having fun."  
  
Ron tried very hard not to notice the way it felt to have her warm breath tickling the side of his neck. He smiled in agreement, careful not to look over and meet her eye in fear of another awkward moment of silence.  
  
Thankfully, the dessert chose that exact moment to appear before them, and the table once again got sidetracked by the food. The next fifteen minutes were spent devouring a strawberry cream tart, and everyone was put at ease for a good short period.  
  
However, once the tables were cleared of the dirty dishes, the lights inside the Great Hall went down, and music started to float through the hall. Harry wanted to crawl under the table and die, Ron suddenly had the urge to fake an illness, and Hermione wanted desperately to just sit unnoticed.  
  
So, it was no surprise that none of them made any effort to move from the position at the table.  
  
However, Harry had no choice for very much longer. As Parvati and Devon and Padma and Dean all got up to join the several couples now making their way toward the center of the dance floor and Seamus got up in search of some "action," Lavender turned to Harry expectantly. "Aren't you going to ask me to dance?"  
  
Harry blushed a light shade of red and consciously avoided looking in Ron and Hermione's direction. He sighed inwardly and mumbled something that sounded like, "Dawandan?"  
  
Lavender, apparently understanding his mixed mumbling quite well, smiled briefly and nodded. "Yes, I would love to."  
  
Harry wanted nothing more than to take a knife and cut his hand off so that he could go to Madame Pomfrey instead, but he sucked all of this up and decided just to face it. A few dances and then hopefully, he would be able to sit out for the rest of the ball. Still not daring to look backwards at his best friends, he got up and walked with Lavender to the middle of the floor.  
  
Ron and Hermione both watched their roommates walk away until they could no longer see them. Both rightly guessed that Harry had walked purposely to a spot where he couldn't be watched by his best friends. They knew that he was embarrassed enough to dance with anyone, especially someone he disliked as much as Lavender; there was no doubt in either of their minds that Harry was simply mortified by the prospect of dancing with Lavender Brown.  
  
Not that either of them weren't mortified with the prospect of dancing with each other.  
  
It wasn't that they didn't want to be there with each other; they did, very much so, in fact. It was more the fact that were both insanely nervous. Hermione had been on edge around Ron continuously since the little talk she'd had with Parvati and Lavender, and it was driving her insane. She wanted desperately to not feel so awkward and self-conscious around her best friend, but she couldn't help it; everything that her roommates had said was still fresh in her mind and not planning on leaving anytime soon. Ron was nervous for very much the same reason and also for a different reason, having nothing to do personally with Hermione. He had never once danced with a girl before, and he definitely wasn't sure how to go about it.  
  
On one hand, he felt that he shouldn't be as nervous as he was. After all, it was Hermione. On the other hand, he felt that he should be even more nervous than he was. After all, it was Hermione.  
  
He'd been battling with himself for days over the fact that he was actually going to be on somewhat of a date with his best female best friend, and now that the moment was actually here, he couldn't have been further from relaxed. He knew she wouldn't laugh at him if he messed up or anything like that because she was simply too nice. But it didn't ease his worries that he would embarrass himself in front of her when he had some unfounded overwhelming need to impress her all of a sudden. He didn't know why he was suddenly plagued by this silly need; all he knew was that doing something stupid in front of her on this night would very likely cause him to have a nervous breakdown.  
  
"So," Hermione's voice instantly jerked Ron out of his nervous reverie, and he turned to face her as she continued to speak. "Are you having a good time?"  
  
Ron nodded, glancing down at the table, which was covered by a dark purple cloth. "Are you?"  
  
Hermione nodded, too. "Yeah."  
  
And then there was that silence again. They sat like that for a long moment, both wallowing in the awkwardness of the whole situation. Finally, Hermione decided that the whole thing was silly, and she looked very pointedly at her date and said, "Do you want to dance?"  
  
Ron looked at her and carefully swallowed the last bit of his nervousness before nodding and saying, "Sure."  
  
She gave him a small smile before standing up and waiting for him to do the same. She was instantly struck with how tall he was; sometimes she forgot that there was such a vast difference in their sizes, but during all the awkward moments when she and Ron were just a little too close, the realization always came back to her. And this was one of those times.  
  
Together, they looked out onto the dance floor and saw that it was even more crowded than it had been before. It seemed as if everyone in attendance had decided they wanted to take advantage of the first dance, but Ron was thankful for this. If everyone was occupied, he would be less self-conscious about dancing, and maybe he wouldn't be so damn nervous. He glanced over at Hermione who started walking to a spot that looked a little less congested than the rest of the floor. He followed behind her, trying very hard to work the anxious nerves out of his system. He felt someone thump him on the back as he trailed his date, and he looked up to see George smirking at him. Ron felt himself turning red, but he ignored his brother and joined Hermione who had now stopped in a spot.  
  
When speaking to each other or even making eye-contact seemed like it was going to be a horribly difficult accomplishment, both teenagers stared at the floor for a moment. Finally, Hermione took a careful breath and nodded slightly, more to herself than to anyone else.  
  
Timidly, very timidly, she raised her arms carefully and placed her hands gently on Ron's shoulders. She was once again taken with his height and even felt almost silly as she raised her arms so high. However, one look up at him calmed his fears; she couldn't possibly be timid when he looked as if he held enough anxiety for the entire school. Wanting to calm his fears a bit, she forced a smile onto her face in what she hoped would be conveyed as encouragement.  
  
Maybe it worked. Or maybe Ron just realized how ridiculous they could be looking. But he finally reached out and very carefully, even more timidly than she had been, placed his hands on her lower waist.  
  
They were both instantly aware of something changing in that split-second, but neither of them wanted to admit it to themselves or, worse yet, comment verbally on it. Instead, Ron, his face flushed greatly, looked down nervously at Hermione and very quietly said, "Is this okay?"  
  
Hermione, who looked up at Ron and was suddenly hit with the crazy thought that his hands resting on her hips was more than okay, opted just to smile shyly up at him and nod very, very slowly.  
  
And then time seemed to stand still.  
  
It wasn't as if they were touching each other for the first time. It wasn't as if this was the closest that they'd ever been. It wasn't as if they were strangers being hit by a huge wave of over-consuming passion.  
  
They were best friends, both realizing something they'd tried very hard for the past few years to ignore.  
  
To deny.  
  
They very much enjoyed physical contact with each other.  
  
And, of course, this scared them. However, it also made them both very curious, which may or may not have been a good thing depending on how you view it.  
  
Finally, Ron swallowed and looked down at her, thankful for the rapidly dimming light; he could feel his cheeks burning bright. Nervously, he admitted to her that he didn't know what he was doing. "I've never really... done this before. You know, dance."  
  
Hermione, thankful for some sort of break in the powerful silence, smiled gratefully. She nodded and said, "Well, it's a little more difficult because you're so tall and I'm so short." She paused for a second before timidly adding, "So, maybe we need to be just a little bit closer."  
  
Ron stared at her, completely dumbfounded and yet, strangely, highly interested. In a voice he prayed was quiet enough that no one else could hear, he said, "How close?"  
  
Hermione bit her lower lip and shot a quick glance to her left before turning her head back up to address Ron. Slowly, she said, "Maybe like this..." She lowered her hands from his shoulder and brought them down to sit atop his own; very easily, she simply moved his hands from her waist around to the small of her back. Ron allowed his hands to be moved and willfully cursed the little unconscious shivers that shot sharply through his body. He held his own breath when Hermione let go of his hands and said, "And maybe like this..." She slowly lifted her arms back up, but instead of placing her hands on his shoulders, she placed them on the back of his neck and took a single step closer to his body. Looking up to meet his eye shyly, she said, "Is this alright?"  
  
Ron just nodded, not exactly trusting his voice to function properly.  
  
**************************************  
  
More Halloween Ball to come! It will probably continue for the next two or maybe three chapters. We'll see Harry and Lavender again (and just maybe someone else...) and LOADS more Ron and Hermione! PLEASE leave feedback! 


	23. Revelations from All Over

A/N: Thanks to everyone who left feedback on the last chapter! I hope you all like this one, too!  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of them.  
  
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Dancing with Lavender was very much like dancing with Parvati. Harry reckoned that since they were exactly alike in every way that he really shouldn't have been too surprised by this fact, but it was rather disturbing nonetheless. Lavender, like her best friend, took the liberty of leading their dances, and Harry, of course, had no complaints about this. If she wanted to steer, he would gladly let her because it would just mean one less thing that he had to worry about. The main difference between dancing with Lavender and dancing with Parvati was the fact that Lavender was much more. risky with her dancing. She definitely was not afraid of more than a little physical contact, and Harry was a bit shocked to find that she was not shy at all about pressing her body tightly against his own and making sure they stayed that close the whole time. Of course, he was a fifteen year old boy, so he had no real complaints about this, either; it was just the fact that Lavender continued to annoy him with drawling stories about her animals and her hair and her wardrobe and her friends and everything else she could think of, and Harry wanted nothing more than to put a silencing spell on her to shut her up.  
  
He got quite good at pretending to listen while studying the couples around them, though. Parvati looked extremely happy with Devon, and Dean was practically drooling over Padma. Neville was dancing awkwardly with Tamara, the Hufflepuff he'd taken to the ball, and he saw that Tamara looked to be in as much pain as Ginny had been the previous year when Neville had taken to stomping on her feet instead of doing any real dancing. At the thought of Ginny, Harry unconsciously glanced around in search of her. He spotted her off to the side of the dance floor with Colin, who was coughing into his hands and looking quite miserable. He'd been sick for a few weeks now, and it seemed like every single time he started to get over his illness, it returned. He'd spent a good part of the past month in the hospital wing under the care of Madame Pomfrey, and even when he wasn't in the infirmary, he was in the Common Room looking absolutely miserable. Ginny was patting him soothingly on the back and telling him something seriously. Harry's eyes wondered away from the pair of fourth years and settled on a sight he'd rather hoped to avoid.  
  
Cho and Justin dancing happily on the other side of the room.  
  
Harry scowled slightly as he watched Cho laughing loudly at something the seventh year Slytherin had just said or done, and it sickened him. Why did she have to go out with a Slytherin anyway? He didn't even know Justin, but he figured that he couldn't be that great of a guy if the Sorting Hat had put him in the same house with Draco Malfoy. And Cho deserved so much better than some stupid Slytherin. At least she looked happy, though; Harry had been afraid that another ball would only serve to remind her of Cedric and make her depressed.  
  
"Harry, are you paying attention?"  
  
The speaking of his name caught his attention, and he promptly turned back to a very stern-looking Lavender. Obviously, she was not used to people not hanging onto her every word, and it certainly offended her because she looked as if she'd been scandalized.  
  
Harry blushed. "Oh! Yeah, I'm listening."  
  
Lavender turned her head and looked in the spot where Harry's attention had been. She rolled her eyes and turned back to him. "She would never go for you." Her tone was so matter-of-fact that it sickened Harry.  
  
"Huh?" He tried his best to appear confused. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Lavender rolled her eyes again and looked pointedly at him. "You're younger than her. She's the most popular girl in Ravenclaw. Tons of guys ask her out. And she just sees you as a friend."  
  
Harry fought the blush threatening to invade his cheeks again. "What?"  
  
"Cho Chang!" Lavender exclaimed loudly, and Harry glanced around nervously. "I swear, you're no better at playing dumb than Hermione is, so you should really give it up."  
  
'"Wha." Harry looked at her bewildered. "What?!"  
  
Sighing, Lavender broke it down for him. "Look, Harry. Everyone knows. I don't know if anyone's told you or not, but everyone knows you like her."  
  
"But."  
  
"Don't even try to deny it," she said positively. "We all know it's the truth, so it won't do any good. And it's okay if you like her, but I really wouldn't keep wasting my time if I was you because it's never going to happen."  
  
Harry couldn't think of a single thing to say. He was absolutely horrified at the news that everyone in the school knew he had a crush on Cho Chang. He hadn't really ever told anyone, except for maybe Ron and Ginny that one time when he admitted to asking her to the ball, but even then he didn't come right out and say that he liked her. And dear God. If Lavender Brown knew, then Parvati Patil knew, and if they both knew then the whole school really did know!  
  
"Hey, Lav. Want to dance?" Another voice drew Harry's attention, and he turned to see Seamus standing beside them and looking very intently at his date.  
  
"You don't mind, do you, Harry?" Lavender flashed a quick and coaxing smile at him. Did he mind? He could positively have kissed Seamus for the suggestion!  
  
"No, it's fine," he said quickly. "I'll just wait over there."  
  
Lavender and Seamus smiled again. "Okay, I won't be long."  
  
"Oh, take your time," he said honestly as he watched the pair of them disappear into the crowd. After they were gone, he kept his promise to wait over there and made his way to one of the now empty tables lining the walls of the dance floor.  
  
He had a lot to think about.  
  
*******************************  
  
Ron and Hermione were both very, very aware of their close-proximity, and they were both very, very nervous all of a sudden. Hermione instantly wished that she hadn't been so bold and placed them so close to each other because she honestly wasn't sure that she could handle this. Ron, like Hermione, was also cursing the closeness that they were now sharing. He'd known for several months now that being this close to her was definitely not good on his insides.  
  
Because she made him feel too much.  
  
She made him feel tiny sparks shooting off throughout his body. She made him feel like his skin was on fire anywhere it made contact with her own. And she made him feel things on the inside that he wasn't used to feeling. She made him feel protective and gentle and careful and a whole sort of other things. Things that he didn't like to associate with Hermione Granger.  
  
And it scared him.  
  
He was vaguely aware of the music surrounding them, but he couldn't really tell what song it was or even what beat it had. All he could do was focus on the fact that he had his hands on her lower back and the fact that she had her own hands on the back of his neck. He tried to tear his eyes away from hers because he was getting embarrassed at literally staring at her, but he couldn't help it. There was just something so different about her lately that he'd found himself studying her intently at the most inopportune times.  
  
And then he started talking. He didn't mean to, but he couldn't stop it. The fact that his voice could work without his brain scared him, but what scared him even more was the fact that it was saying something so incredibly true.  
  
"You look really nice tonight."  
  
He immediately blushed as soon as he'd heard himself speak. He tried to force himself to look away, but he still couldn't. And he was forced to watch her reaction. At first she just looked up at him in semi-shock, studying him as if trying to find something untruthful about his claim. But when she found none, her face broke into a bashful grin, and her eye softened dramatically.  
  
Quietly, she said, "Thank you."  
  
Ron couldn't help it. She was so beautiful, and although he wanted desperately not to notice this fact, it was so overwhelming that he had no choice. She was beautiful, and Ron was suddenly hit with a revelation so strong that it nearly knocked him over.  
  
He liked Hermione Granger.  
  
And as a lot more than a friend.  
  
************************************  
  
Harry sat watching the couples all around him enjoying themselves. Lavender had disappeared a long time ago, but Harry wasn't upset by this. He was more than happy to be rid of her, and he was now eternally grateful to Seamus for relieving him of the torture that was Lavender Brown.  
  
The main couple he was watching, though, was the couple made up of his best friends. He'd never seen any of them act the way they were acting out there on the dance floor. Both Ron and Hermione looked positively terrified, but this didn't deter them from snuggling up quite nicely with each other. Each of them seemed to be using this dance as an excuse to experiment on how close they could get to one another without going crazy.  
  
And while both of them were still quite sane, Harry found himself nearing the brink of insanity quite quickly.  
  
"Hey."  
  
Harry looked up at the sound of the voice just in time to see Ginny Weasley sitting herself beside him at the empty table. She gave him a half-smile, and he realized he hadn't paid much attention to her appearance that night, as he'd only seen her briefly when she was soothing Colin. She was wearing new dress robes, and Harry suspected that the twins had bought them for her with the money he'd given them. She looked very pretty in them, as they were a royal blue color that accented her hair rather nicely and made her creamy white skin look even paler than usual. Her hair was piled on top of her hair with a few select strands framing her face. Harry decided she looked very elegant indeed.  
  
"Hi," he said, returning the half-smile. "Where's Colin?"  
  
Ginny frowned. "Sick. He shouldn't have come at all, but he insisted on at least making an appearance. I think it only made him worse, though, so he had to go up to bed."  
  
Harry nodded slowly. "Hope he's alright."  
  
"Yeah." Ginny was looking out at the dance floor absently, and Harry caught her staring at Ron and Hermione. "Looks like they might actually be getting it together," she said with a small grin. "It's about time."  
  
Harry had to disagree. For all he cared, they could take the rest of their lives on 'getting it together.' He still wasn't comfortable with the idea of them together, and watching them dancing so closely was making him feel that perhaps he would follow Colin's lead and retreat to bed with an illness.  
  
"Where's Lavender?" Ginny's question drew his attention away from his best friends.  
  
"Oh, she went to dance with Seamus." He paused before adding, "About forty- five minutes ago."  
  
It was obvious that Ginny was trying very hard not to grin. "Well, that sucks, huh?" was finally her reply.  
  
Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Lavender actually isn't much more fun than Parvati was."  
  
Ginny nodded absently. They stayed silent and watched the couples dancing for several more minutes. A fast song was playing, and George and Alicia were very clearly in a contest with Fred and Katie over who could do the wildest combinations. Several of the couples on the floor, even, had stopped their own dancing and were watching the little show with amusement.  
  
Ginny was shaking her head. "Oh, God," she muttered. "And it's not like I can even claim that they're not related to me..."  
  
Harry laughed a little. He let his gaze slide for the thousandth time to Ron and Hermione, both of whom were standing to the side of the floor and watching the little competition. Ron looked just as embarrassed as Ginny was claiming to be, and Hermione was very clearly giggling rather convulsively. Harry didn't allow himself to look in Cho and Justin's direction, and when the song ended, he focused his attention back on the twins who were now joking around with each other and their dates.  
  
A slow song replaced the fast one, and the dance floor filled back up. Harry couldn't help but catch sight of Cho wrapping her arms around Justin's neck yet again, and he briskly looked down at the ground for something, anything to study as intently as possible.  
  
"Do you want to dance?"  
  
He looked up and remembered suddenly that he wasn't alone at the table. Ginny was looking at him nervously, a very, very faint blush coloring her cheeks. Figuring that anything had to be better than sitting alone at a corner table and watching his two best friends get incredibly cozy with each other and the girl he'd had a crush on for three years get incredibly cozy with someone who most definitely was not him, he shrugged. "Sure."  
  
Ginny stood up and smiled at him awkwardly. He hadn't seen this nervous Ginny in awhile, and he found himself grinning at the reform as he stood up to join her. Together, they walked to the dance floor and into the crowd of couples. As they made their way to an empty space, Harry spotted Dean and Padma getting very, very close, and he knew that he was in for at least one recap of a snogfest later in the dormitory.  
  
When they finally reached the small clearing, they stood looking at each other silently for a moment. Harry was suddenly feeling very awkward himself, and he saw the feeling mirrored on Ginny's face. It didn't surprise him much that Ginny was nervous, as it was no secret that she'd held a crush on him for quite sometime. But he couldn't for the life of him figure out why he was so nervous.  
  
This was Ginny Weasley.  
  
Ron's little sister.  
  
Sweet, blushing, nervous, innocent, little Ginny Weasley.  
  
Only she wasn't so little anymore. And she definitely wasn't innocent anymore with the twins as her mentors. He wasn't sure he'd call her sweet, either- not after seeing some of the huge rows she'd gotten into with Ron recently, complete with a very colorful vocabulary and several questionable hand motions.  
  
But the blushing and nervousness was something she was displaying rather profusely at the moment.  
  
The only problem seemed to be that Harry, too, was displaying the same.  
  
After realizing that they probably looked quite stupid standing there motionless in the middle of the dance floor, Harry swallowed whatever had recently settled in his throat and said, "Well, here we are..."  
  
Ginny swallowed, too, and nodded. "Yes," was the only word from her mouth.  
  
Harry waited for maybe ten seconds more before reaching out and awkwardly placing his hands on her hips. It seemed to take several more seconds for her own hands to find his shoulders, but she finally rested them there lightly. Harry felt something sharp go down his spine at the contact but promptly forced himself not to acknowledge it. He kept his eyes on her feet as they slowly started to move in time to the music.  
  
It was strange dancing with Ginny. When he'd danced with Parvati the year before, she had made it perfectly clear that she was in control, and he hadn't minded one bit letting her be the one to do all the steering. Lavender had done the same, only with much, much more physical contact. But with Ginny... It was different somehow. She wasn't doing the leading, and he wasn't, either. They were simply moving.  
  
He finally risked a glance up at her and noticed for the first time that with the shoes Ginny was wearing, she was about an inch and a half taller than he was. He figured that he should have felt embarrassed by this fact, but for some reason, he found himself laughing despite himself.  
  
Ginny looked up at him, nervousness all over her pale face. "What?" she asked anxiously.  
  
Harry snickered once more and shook his head. Finally, he managed to say, "I feel really short."  
  
Ginny smiled slowly and eventually added her giggling to his own. She pulled away enough to draw her wand out of an inner pocket in her robes and mutter a quick spell which instantly turned her stacked shoes into flats and took three inches off of her current height, making her the one who was now about an inch and a half shorter than he dancing partner.  
  
"Is this better?" she asked between quiet giggles.  
  
Harry laughed again and nodded.  
  
He immediately decided that Ginny Weasley was a much better partner than Lavender Brown.  
  
***************************************  
  
Well? The next part is already written, and it's mostly Ron and Hermione. I know there wasn't a lot in this chapter, but the next one will make up for it! PLEASE leave feedback!!!! 


	24. Every Action Has an Equal and Opposite R...

Okay, first of all, I am SORRY! But I've been three weeks without a computer thanks to an exploded hard-drive and a very disagreeable computer company! I am SORRY!!!!! Please, please still be interested!  
  
This part is all R/H, so I hope you guys enjoy it! Remember to leave thoughts and suggestions!!!  
  
Disclaimer: None of them are mine...  
  
**************************  
  
He liked Hermione Granger.  
  
And as a whole lot more than a friend.  
  
Ron stood in semi-shock as this grand revelation hit him full force- so forcefully, in fact, that he was almost knocked over from the impact of it. He couldn't, wouldn't believe it. The whole idea of him, Ron Weasley, liking Hermione Granger, bossy, know-it-all, stick in the mud Hermione Granger was simply preposterous. The twins and Ginny- that's who he had to blame for this ridiculous notion. Them and Harry.  
  
What did any of them know anyway? They were stupid, the whole lot of them.  
  
They were the ones who kept insisting that he fancied Hermione. They were the ones who had spent the whole summer trying to trick him into some kind of embarrassing confession. Some untrue confession, of course! He didn't fancy Hermione because that would just be too. too weird!  
  
She was Hermione, for crying out loud!  
  
He'd known her for five years. He'd known her when she was still in her awkward stage- before she'd started turning various heads in her direction. He'd stood up for her when others had made fun of her or talked rudely about her behind her back. He'd been there for her when she was upset and had offered his shoulder to her on more than one occasion. Because that's what a friend did.  
  
Bug if she was just a friend then why was all of that suddenly so much more important? Why did he spend so many nights lying in bed just thinking about her and the way she was suddenly becoming even more important to him than she had been before? And why had he recently caught himself staring at her profile as she leaned over her books and rapidly took notes on their teachers' lectures while he should have been taking his own notes? And why did he start noticing tiny little details about her that he'd never noticed before? Like the habit she had of pushing all but a single strand of hair away from her face and twirling that one strand thoughtfully while she read? Or the way she gently clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth while she checked over his and Harry's homework?  
  
Bloody hell.  
  
He did like her.  
  
But. Oh, God. This was bad. How was he supposed to act? What was he supposed to say? And why did he have to notice this now, anyway? He couldn't have realized it when he was in the privacy of his dormitory or even when he was in Divination and worlds away from her Arithmancy classroom. No, it had to happen in the most inopportune of moments- when she was only inches away from him and brushing the back of his neck with the inside of her fingertips.  
  
"Are you okay?" The sound of her voice brought him out of his momentary lapse in consciousness. He blinked and glanced down to see her staring up at him intently.  
  
He did his very best to appear just fine. Quickly, he said, "Huh? Yeah, I'm fine."  
  
But Hermione wasn't convinced. In a voice that sounded way too much like his mother, she said, "You look sick. I hope you haven't caught whatever Colin has."  
  
"I'm not sick," he declared evenly.  
  
However, his tone was simply not convincing enough. Hermione eyed him suspiciously before raising a hand to his forehead. Perhaps she didn't notice the way he tensed at the relocation of his hand because she said, "You're warm," quite sternly.  
  
Ron prayed silently that she would remover her hand from his face. "I don't have a fever." His face was probably hot from the sheer embarrassment of the situation.  
  
Hermione tutted softly at him before shrugging slightly and taking ther hand from his forehead to replace it against the back of his neck.  
  
He couldn't help the shiver that shot down his spine.  
  
******************************  
  
Several dances later, Ron and Hermione had finally calmed down as best as was possible. In fact, the nervousness was nearly completely absent when Hermione peered around Ron's shoulder and squinted at a couple in the corner of the Great Hall. "Is that Lavender with Seamus?"  
  
Ron turned his head to follow Hermione's gaze and grew very bewildered. "Yeah..."  
  
Hermione stopped dancing and removed herself from Ron's arms to look around. Ron wanted to protest the sudden disconnection, but he didn't dare. Instead, he just followed her lead and looked around, too.  
  
He looked into the corner where Lavender was currently perched on Seamus' lap. "They certainly look very interested in each other," he said fleetingly.  
  
"Yeah," Hermione said sarcastically. "Interested in each other's tonsils."  
  
Ron snickered but was secretly grateful for the dimmed lights so that Hermione couldn't see his blush- especially since he didn't even know exactly why he was blushing. It was true, though. Lavender and Seamus appeared to currently be attempting to inhale each other's tongues.  
  
"I wonder where Harry is," he wondered aloud. Surely, he hadn't gone up to bed and left his date to Seamus. Didn't he have more sense than that?  
  
Hermione shrugged and glanced in several directions. "I dunno." Suddenly, though, her gaze rested on what was unmistakably Harry... And Ginny Weasley. "Oh," she muttered quietly.  
  
"Huh?" Ron looked around immediately and instantly followed Hermione's gaze to the appropriate target. "What the hell?!"  
  
"Ron, hush," Hermione whispered. "Leave them alone."  
  
The voice of reason was often ignored by Ron Weasley.  
  
"What the hell is he doing to my little sister?!" He looked outraged. "What are they laughing about?!" He suddenly took on a very scandalized appearance. "And why the hell are his hands on her hips like that?!?"  
  
He started to march right over to the couple in question, but was stopped by Hermione's grasp on the back of his robes. "Ron, stop," she commanded calmly. "They're just dancing."  
  
"Just dancing?!" Ron looked as if she'd gone completely mad. "They certainly appear to be enjoying each other's company quite well!" It was true; Ginny and Harry were laughing very hard about something. "And he's not allowed to put his hands on my little sister!"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and released her grasp on Ron's robes only to walk around and face him front to front. "So, they're laughing. Maybe he told her a joke."  
  
"He's not allowed to tell my sister jokes!" Ron exclaimed heatedly.  
  
"Ron, leave them alone," she said quickly. "They're only dancing. It's not like they're pulling a Lavender and Seamus."  
  
This, of course, was the wrong thing to say because it put way too many images into Ron's head. "If he ever... Oh, my God, I'll kill him!"  
  
Hermione, realizing that she was not going to get through to Ron any other way, slid her arms up and around his neck. "Dance with me," she requested. Then, smiling up at him very, very softly, she added, "Please."  
  
This, of course, awakened Ron's other half- the half that was powered completely by teenage male hormones. Suddenly, he found himself quite incapable of imagining his best friend and little sister doing inappropriate things, and he realized that the only thing he could focus on was the fact that a very beautiful girl had her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and had her body in very, very close proximity to his own. Doing the only thing that made any sense at all, he wrapped his arms around her waist and said, "Okay."  
  
Now that the original awkwardness of dancing together had passed, Ron and Hermione found themselves falling into a comfortable position rather quickly. Only, this comfortable position was much closer than the previous ones. Ron wrapped his arms tighter around her waist, and he felt Hermione's arms pull more concisely around his neck. It was at this moment that Ron began to revel in the sensations shooting through his body. It felt like every time they moved together, new sparks would shoot off and send him into a new rush of emotions. He noticed that they were so close that it seemed as though he could feel every single inch of his body pressed against his. And it felt nice. Very nice.  
  
It was at that exact moment, though, that Ron realized quite instantly that if he could feel every inch of her body then she could feel every inch of his...  
  
And there were certain biological reactions that he really did not want her to notice...  
  
'Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God.'  
  
This was the only coherent thought shooting through his mind as he frantically wondered what he was supposed to do. If he pulled away, she would think he was uncomfortable. It would make the situation painfully obvious. Of course, if he stayed pressed against her like this, the situation would only become more obvious. And more. And more. Deciding that if he pulled away just a few inches, he could break actual contact with her, he loosened his grip on her waist and backed up in what he hoped was a very inconspicuous way.  
  
'Snape,' he thought frantically. 'Grandmum... Snape and Grandmum together. Naked.'  
  
Okay, that took care of the situation.  
  
Although he did feel just a bit sick at the imagery. Okay, 'just a bit' could easily have qualified for the understatement of the millennium.  
  
"Ron, why do you look like you're going to throw up?"  
  
Hermione's question jerked him out of his previous reverie. "Huh?" Then he realized that his sick feeling must have been reflected on his face. "Oh, it's nothing," he said quickly, careful not to make any sudden contact with her body and praying that she wouldn't check him for a fever yet again.  
  
They'd stopped dancing, but they stood silently with one of her hands behind his neck and the other on his shoulder while both of his hands rested on the back of her waist for several moments. Finally, though, Hermione pulled away, and Ron found himself wishing she hadn't. He didn't dwell on this, though.  
  
Especially when he felt her hand drop into his.  
  
"Do you want to go for a walk?" she asked quietly, glancing up at him curiously.  
  
Ron's brain was focused on the fact that Hermione Granger's hand was in his. More specifically on the fact that her hand fit into his so perfectly. Her hand was so tiny that he was positive that if he just tightened his grip a little, he could cover her hand completely with his own.  
  
He decided to try it.  
  
And he found that it worked quite well. He didn't meet Hermione's eye to see her reaction to the sudden tightness of his grasp; instead he answered her previous question.  
  
"Sure. Okay."  
  
He could sense Hermione smiling a little as she nodded gently and started toward the exit of the Great Hall, leading Ron behind her. Ron ignored the way his brothers were very obviously snickering and pointing at him; he ignored everything.  
  
Except for the fact that Hermione had not yet removed her hand from his own.  
  
Together, they left the Great Hall and headed out the front entrance. The darkness and still of the outside was a far cry from the loudness and hyperness that the Ball had held. There were no other students in sight, but Ron knew from last year that the bushes were undoubtedly filled with people interested in the same type of activity that Seamus and Lavender were currently engaged in.  
  
For a very brief and fleeting moment, he wondered what it would be like to take Hermione into the bushes.  
  
Of course, he quickly pushed this thought out of his head because it was quite absurd. Stupid, stupid teenage hormones. He would be glad when this whole bloody hell was over and he could go back to acting like a normal, rational human being who knew perfectly well that such thoughts about one's best friend were not only ludicrous but just a tad sickening.  
  
Kissing Hermione would be like. kissing Ginny!  
  
Because that's all she was when it came down to it. A substitute sister. A substitute sister who just happened to be very beautiful.  
  
He mentally groaned at the horrid little thoughts floating through his brain.  
  
"Is something wrong?"  
  
Okay, obviously, his groan was not mental if Hermione had heard it. He looked up quickly and shook his head. "Uh, no. I'm fine."  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow at him but shrugged and tugged on his hand once again. "C'mon, I want to show you something."  
  
Ron followed her for several more minutes until they were on the outskirts of the forest. "Hermione, we're not supposed to be down here," he said, uneasily glancing into the darkness of the forest.  
  
Hermione turned to him with a bit of a smirk. "Since when are you a stickler for the rules, Weasley?" she asked playfully. "I thought that was my job."  
  
He narrowed his eyes at her and decided to play along. "It is, Granger," he told her haughtily. "I just wanted to make sure you realized what you're doing before you find some way to blame it on me." Because if they got caught, it would undoubtedly be his fault.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "We're not going into the forest, Ron. Not the bad part anyway."  
  
Bad part? The whole thing was bad as far as Ron was concerned. Hermione tugged him forward a little more, though, and he suddenly found himself engulfed in the trees and blackness of the forest. How the hell did she consider this the good part?  
  
"Look," she said quietly, using her free hand to point a little to her left.  
  
Ron followed her pointing finger and gasped a little in surprise. There was a small pond not too far before them. It wasn't a beautiful, cheery little pond by any means. But it was intriguing nonetheless. The moon was shining down on it brilliantly, and Ron noticed that there was a clearing in the trees that made it a little lighter than the rest of the forest.  
  
"I didn't know there was a pond down here," he said absently as Hermione led him over to it.  
  
"I don't think many people do," she said. "I found it that night back in first year when I had detention with Harry and Neville and Malfoy, and I came back to it a few days later to see if I could find it again. It's a really good thinking spot. Sometimes I come down here just to get away from everything else, you know?"  
  
Ron nodded. "It looks really peaceful."  
  
"It is," she said, nodding for effect. "Want to sit down?" she suggested and slid to the ground beside a tree without waiting for an answer.  
  
Ron looked down at her for a minute, noticing that their hands were still connected. "You're going to get your dress robes filthy," he said with raised eyebrows.  
  
Hermione shrugged. "I'm not that much of a girl, Ron," she said, rolling her eyes slightly.  
  
He grinned a little and sat down beside her, leaning back against the tree behind them in the same fashion Hermione was doing. They sat in silence for several moments as Ron marveled at the way it felt to just be sitting alone with Hermione, so close, and holding her hand. It was nice. Extremely nice.  
  
Finally, Hermione sighed softly, breaking the silence between them.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked, turning his head just a bit and viewing her profile. She was looking upwards, seemingly toward the sky.  
  
Hermione gave a very small smile but didn't turn her head. "I was just thinking about how small we really are when it comes down to everything."  
  
Ron was more than a bit bewildered by her statement, so he decided to ask for a little clarification. "Um, what?" he asked, not able to think of a more intelligent way to state his confusion.  
  
Hermione giggled a little but still didn't turn to meet his eye. She just stared at the sky and said, "Well, sometimes I feel like we're supposed to be saving the world or something, you know?"  
  
Ron did know. He felt the same way a lot of the time- especially with the whole prophecy thing now weighing on his mind.  
  
"But then I come out here," she continued. "And I look at the sky, and everything just seems so big and so vast. And I can't even fathom how we're of any importance at all."  
  
Ron stared at her for several more moments, simply basking in just how intelligent she really was. Then he slowly turned his own head upwards and looked at the sky. She was right. It did seem incredibly huge, stretching out for billions of miles in all directions. In somewhat awe, he slowly turned his head to look at her again. "How can you be that smart?" he asked seriously.  
  
Hermione finally turned to him, a curious expression on her face. Then she broke into a smile and gave him a sort of half-laugh. "I guess I have a lot of practice," she said shrugging. "And I read a lot," she added fleetingly. "Did you know that the stars used to be the only type of Divination available? The answer to everything and every question was said to be hidden in the stars."  
  
"No wonder Professor Sinistra likes them so much," Ron joked, still craning his neck, taking in the millions and millions of flecks of light decorating the dark sky..  
  
Hermione laughed lightly before posing another question. "Where do you think they all come from?"  
  
Ron turned his head slightly and looked at her in short confusion. "Where do I think what comes from?"  
  
"The stars."  
  
"Oh." Ron glanced back up at the sky and shrugged. "I dunno; I guess I just assume they've always been around."  
  
He saw Hermione nod, and they sat in silence for a few moments. Finally, Hermione followed up with an even deeper query. "Do you believe in God?"  
  
Ron was completely caught off-guard by this question and turned his head to look at her. To his surprise, she'd stopped staring at the sky and was staring back at him awaiting the answer to her question. The only problem was the fact that Ron didn't exactly have an answer. "I don't really know. I mean, I guess so, but it's not like I spend a whole lot of time thinking about it or what God means or anything like that." He raised an eyebrow at his female best friend. "Do you?"  
  
She cast her eyes downward for a moment before looking back up and half- shrugging. "I don't know. I used to, of course. I mean, I was raised Catholic and went to Mass every single week until I came to Hogwarts. And then, you know, when I came to Hogwarts it was because I was a witch, and that's really sort of looked down upon by the Catholic religion." Ron was sure he saw a sarcastic little grin tugging at the corner of her lips, but she kept talking nonetheless. "But then, if there is a God, then it must have been God himself who made me a witch, and why would he do that?"  
  
"So, you don't believe in God because you're a witch?" Ron was a tad bit confused, but he was trying to get the clarification he needed to make all of it fit together without being painfully obvious about it.  
  
Hermione turned her eyes back to the sky. "Well, yes. And no." She sighed. "I don't know if I believe in God or not, but I don't really think that I do. At least not the Christian idea of God anyway."  
  
Ron, who had never really been too interested in religion didn't really know much about Christianity, Catholicism, or any other faith that people had. "What is their idea of God?"  
  
Hermione turned back to him and pushed a single ringlet out of her face. "They believe that God is all-knowing and all-powerful and that he loves all and forgives anyone who asks him for forgiveness. But I think that just asking something you've never seen for forgiveness is a little too easy; I think that when we do something wrong, we have to take the consequences by ourselves. I mean, scientific knowledge has told us that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. So, we should know this and deal with it here on Earth instead of just asking some, well, 'idea' for forgiveness and clearing our conscience."  
  
Ron wasn't exactly sure what to say. After all, what response do you give to pure and utter brilliance? Hermione was simply too smart for her own good, and Ron listened carefully as she explained the rest of her feelings.  
  
"And if God supposedly loves everyone, then why does he let such awful things happen to people?" She looked down at the ground and used the hand that was not still resting in Ron's to pick at the dying grass below her. "I mean, just take Harry for example. He's an orphan, and he didn't do anything to anybody. He was a baby!"  
  
Ron, too, joined her gaze on the grass and waited for her to finish.  
  
"And I just don't think that this great and loving and caring deity would be subjecting people all over the world to all the horrible things that are happening. Not just in our world but in the Muggle world, too. Things are really bad, and I just can't imagine why this God would do this to everyone."  
  
Her voice faded away at the end, and Ron instinctively knew that she was finished. He simply allowed her sheer brilliance to flutter around them for several moments before finally breaking the thick silence and speaking. "Hermione, you think too much." It was a light-hearted response meant as a joke and taken as one.  
  
Hermione laughed and shrugged. "I can't help it."  
  
Ron watched her as she laughed and took in every feature of her delicate face as it was illuminated by the pale light of the moon. The revelation he'd had earlier about his not-so-friendly fancying of Hermione came back, and Ron cursed it. He didn't want to like her. He didn't want to think she was beautiful. He didn't want to wonder what it was like to kiss her.  
  
The previous grin that had rested on his features faded as he realized what he'd just thought. It wasn't the first time he'd had the strange urge to kiss her; he'd felt the same way the night they'd spent in the girls' bathroom after he'd asked her to the Halloween Ball. It had scared him then, but it scared him even more now. That night a few weeks before, he'd blamed the whole thing on teenage hormones, but now he couldn't do that. Now, he realized that he'd want to kiss her even if he wasn't being tormented by teenage angst.  
  
There were several problems with this, of course. The main one being that she quite clearly did not want to kiss him.  
  
But as her laughter faded away, she turned to meet him with a rather breathtaking smile, and Ron couldn't help himself- he wanted to kiss her. Very much. And suddenly, just as her laughter faded away, so did her brilliant smile. It was almost as if she knew that he wanted to kiss her and maybe...  
  
Maybe even wanted to kiss him back.  
  
Ron took a deep breath as he stared very seriously into her eyes, asking, no begging her with his stare to just give him some sort of signal that he wasn't alone in this bloody torture. She didn't say anything; she didn't even nod. She simply bit down lightly on her lower lip and ran the thumb of the hand that was still in his over his knuckle gently.  
  
Ron didn't know why, but this simple act gave him enough courage to take the next step. This might be the only chance they would ever get, and he was willing to take it.  
  
He was going to kiss her.  
  
However, the fates had other ideas in store, and just as he moved his head slightly forward, a loud clap of thunder was heard, causing him to jump and Hermione to squeak in shock. Just as quickly as the thunder had sounded, rain began to fall from the previously clear sky. The sudden downpour soaked them both immediately, and their eyes met in a silent agreement.  
  
Ron immediately jumped to his feet, trying to duck under a tree and save himself from the rain. With his hand still connected to Hermione's, she, too, was pulled to her feet and under the tree.  
  
The rain pounded down so heavily that they had to yell in order to be heard. Ron ducked his head a bit and yelled, "We have to get back!"  
  
Hermione nodded, jumping again as a flash of lightning shot through the sky. Ron looked up at the illuminated sky and then started pulling her in the direction of outskirts of the forest. When they were almost back into the clearing of the grounds, though, Hermione stopped abruptly and grabbed onto Ron's arm with her fee hand, halting him as well. He turned to look at her curiously, squinting at her through the darkness and rain.  
  
"Ron, wait!" she said frantically. "I... I..."  
  
Ron shook his head, not understanding her and barely able to make her out through the storm. "What?"  
  
Hermione paused and then shook her head. "Never mind!"  
  
With that, she took off running, and Ron followed quickly, their hands still entwined with each other. Together, they raced back to the castle through the storm. They reached the entrance and, for some reason, didn't stop running until they reached the portrait hole to Gryffindor Tower. The ball was still going on, so there was no one else around. The Fat Lady peered at them curiously.  
  
"What have you two been doing?" she asked haughtily. "You both look a mess!"  
  
Ron rolled his eyes, and Hermione gave the password ("Snickerdoodle") in place of an answer. The Fat Lady tutted disapprovingly at them but swung open nonetheless. As they climbed into the Common Room, they both seemed to notice at the same time that they were still holding hands. Blushing, they dropped their grasp on each other and walked in awkward silence to the stairway that separated the boys' dorms from the girls'  
  
"Well, I guess I'll see you in the morning." Hermione looked up shyly into Ron's eyes.  
  
Ron, too, seemed to be suddenly bit by the 'shy bug' and nodded nervously. "Yeah."  
  
There was an awkward pause in which both parties stared expectantly at the other, though neither was sure what they were quite expecting. Finally, Ron nodded and spoke again. "Right," he said with a swallow. "Goodnight."  
  
Hermione barely raised one corner of her mouth and nodded a little. "Goodnight."  
  
They stared at each other for another moment before at last turning to go their separate ways up the staircase. Just as Hermione turned her back, though, Ron called out to stop her.  
  
"Hermione."  
  
She turned around at the sound of her name and looked at him curiously. "Yes?"  
  
Ron glanced down at the ground nervously before finally looking back up and saying, "Thanks for going with me."  
  
Hermione raised both corners of her mouth this time and nodded. "I had a lot of fun."  
  
Ron returned the smile hopefully. "Really?"  
  
She nodded again. "Really." She grinned. "And thanks for asking me." With that, she raised herself onto the tips of her toes and pressed a small kiss against his cheek before lowering herself again and looking up at him.  
  
Ron felt his cheeks blush a little, and then he did something he'd never done before. He leaned down a bit and placed his lips gently against her own cheek. When he raised back up, he gave her a quick smile and said, "Goodnight," before hurrying up the stairs to his dorm.  
  
Hermione realized that her cheeks were burning slightly as she watched Ron's retreating back. When he disappeared around the corner of the staircase, she allowed the smile to return to her face, and she slowly raised a hand to the cheek he had just kissed and ran a finger over the space his lips had just been as if to check and see if it was real.  
  
Satisfied that it was, in fact, real, she walked upstairs to her own dormitory in pursuit of a warm and peaceful shower.  
  
*********************  
  
Okay, so kill me because it's not the real thing... But all in due time, people. All in due time!!!  
  
I'd LOVE feedback! MUAH! 


	25. The Morning After

A/N: I know it's been about a week, but school and work and a bunch of other stuff keeps distracting me. Once I get through with this little part of the story, I will hopefully be able to post more regularly because I have a lot of stuff already written. Please remember to leave feedback and let me know what you think!  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters here, of course...  
  
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The next morning's breakfast brought several ducked heads and avoided gazes. None of the trio really had too much to say to anyone. There was awkwardness between Ron and Hermione, of course, due to the fact that they'd ended their date with so much pent up tension. And there was also the little fact that they'd almost and actually would have kissed if the storm hadn't stopped them. And while that went on there, Harry himself was feeling quite awkward. He wasn't looking in Ginny's direction, and he had no real urge to look in the twins' direction, either. He had the least urge to look at his best friend, though, because he wasn't sure if Ron had seen him dancing with Ginny or not, but he was willing to bet that if he had, he definitely wasn't too happy about it.  
  
He was right.  
  
Ron, while carefully avoiding Hermione's eye, kept stealing glances down the table at his little sister. He was silently studying her, as if he was trying his damnedest to see any difference in her morning routine. As if noticing a difference in the way she ate her eggs would give him a clear view of just exactly what had gone on between herself and his own best friend. He wanted to know, but he definitely was not going to ask Harry because he half-expected himself to haul off and punch Harry across the nose if the subject was ever to come up between the two of them. For once, he was thinking logically and figuring that keeping the peace was a much better plan than flying off the handle.  
  
It wasn't until Divination that the subject of the previous night's ball came up. Everyone was pretty tired from the ball, and Professor Trelawney, while she may have been extremely annoying, also happened to be one of those teachers who was sensitive to such things and decided to take it easy on her lessons that day. She said that a drowsy mind was the same as a clouded one, and it would just be a much better bet if they were to all rest and just take the period as a free hour, so long as they stayed in the classroom and relatively quiet.  
  
Parvati spent the hour conversing in private with the Divination teacher about something Harry was sure he did not want to know about. Seamus and Lavender found an empty corner and were having what was quite obviously a very amusing conversation, seeing as Lavender kept giggling shrilly every few seconds and Seamus kept beaming nonstop. Neville and Dean were both lounging with their heads on their desks and their eyes closed. Harry was tempted to follow suit, but his curiosity got the better of him, and he finally decided that he wanted to know what had transpired the night before between his two best friends, and if that meant he would have to disclose the fact that he'd greatly enjoyed Ginny's company, then so be it.  
  
Twisting round in his chair to face his redheaded best friend, he yawned and then brought up the subject. "So, did you have a good time last night?"  
  
Ron mirrored the yawn; it was a natural reaction. Shrugging in what he obviously thought was a very nonchalant manner, he said, "Yeah, I suppose so."  
  
Harry nodded slowly. "Hermione must have, too."  
  
Ron instantly looked up and became more attentive. "Did she say anything to you about it?"  
  
Amused, Harry shook his head. "No, I could just tell she was having fun because she actually looked like she was thinking about something besides school for once."  
  
It was hard to tell whether Ron looked relieved or disappointed. His answer was a simple, "Oh."  
  
Not having been fed the desired information yet, Harry pressed on. "Well, I noticed you guys disappeared after awhile." He didn't ask a question, but he clearly left himself open for an answer.  
  
"We went for a walk, and then it started raining. So, we just went back up to the tower after that."  
  
A walk? Well, that was certainly interesting. "Where did you go? To the terrace?"  
  
Ron sighed and shook his head, obviously annoyed at all the questioning. "No. If you must know, we went into the forest to a little pond that Hermione knew about."  
  
"You went into the forest?" Harry's mouth was slightly open. "With Hermione?"  
  
Ron scowled at the bespectacled boy. "Yeah, so? I'm surprised you even noticed, seeing as how you were so wrapped up in my baby sister." His voice was daring, challenging Harry to question him again.  
  
Inwardly groaning, Harry did his best to look nonplussed. "I wasn't wrapped up in anything," he declared matter-of-factly. "Ginny and I danced for a little while. So, what?"  
  
"So, what?" Ron repeated incredulously. "You stand in the middle of a crowded room and grope my baby sister, and you ask me so, what?!"  
  
His siblings hadn't been exaggerating when they'd said that Ron was the drama king of the Weasley clan. He simply had a way of over-reacting to any situation. Harry stared in half-shock at his best friend and processed the accusation. Finally, he let his initial reaction take over, and he laughed. He laughed out loud at the stupidity of that statement. As Ron glared at him, he finally sobered up and rolled his eyes. "Are you fucking serious?" he asked wide-eyed. When Ron continued to glare, Harry rolled his eyes again. "First of all, you don't have a baby sister- not yet anyway. Ginny is only eleven months younger than you, or have you forgotten that? And second of all, I did not 'grope' her as you so adequately put it. I danced with her because she asked me to. Colin got sick, and Lavender got tonsillitis, if you know what I mean. So, what's the big deal?"  
  
"The big deal," Ron answered darkly, "is the fact that Ginny is my sister!"  
  
"And?!" Harry couldn't quite believe he was having this conversation. "This is stupid! This whole bloody topic is stupid. We were dancing; it was a ball, and we danced. It's not like I asked her to marry me!"  
  
Ron suddenly appeared quite outraged, and his voice rose slightly. "You know how she is, Harry! You know that she likes you, and you know how gullible she is when it comes to things." The wordless mention of Second Year was well heard. "And you're just playing with her emotions!"  
  
This was too much. Harry was simply not in the mood to put up with Ron's childish argument, so he cut straight to the chase. "Oh, you mean the way you've been playing with Hermione's emotions for two years now?"  
  
Ron was silent for a long moment as he glared darkly at his best friend. Finally, he calmly said, "And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Oh, don't play stupid, Ron," Harry said sardonically. "You know perfectly well what I mean. One minute you're defending her and the next you're insulting her. One minute you're telling her a joke and the next you're yelling at her! No wonder she hasn't responded to any of it yet... She probably doesn't know whether you want to argue with her or snog her!"  
  
The mention of kissing drew several heads in their direction. Both Neville and Dean woke up enough to turn and watch the brewing row between the best friends, and Parvati tore her eyes away from Trelawney's crystal ball long enough to witness what was sure to be a good gossip topic. Only Lavender and Seamus seemed too preoccupied to listen in on Harry and Ron's now not- so-private conversation.  
  
Ron was silent for a long moment, and both he and Harry were painfully aware of the small audience they'd acquired. In a much quieter, much tighter tone, Ron spoke directly to his best friend, his face burning all the while. "Shut up, Harry."  
  
But Harry wasn't having any of it. He was still angry that Ron had tried to turn an innocent dance with Ginny into something far more meaningful and far more scandalous. And he was also angry that Ron had just accused him of playing with Ginny's emotions when he'd done absolutely nothing of the sort. Not bothering to match Ron's quiet and controlled tone, he answered. "No! You can't keep denying it because everyone knows now! Except for you maybe, but then again, you've always been pretty thick when it comes to figuring out the obvious."  
  
His words had been cruel, and the hurt showed up immediately on Ron's face. Harry felt bad, but he was now so angry he couldn't stand it. He wasn't even sure why he was so furious, but it just seemed like a dam had broken, and Harry finally had the chance to take out a ton of pent-up aggression. At his best friend's stake, nonetheless. Ron was now clutching the corner of the desk so tightly that his knuckles were turning white; he was praying silently for Harry to just shut up- for both of their sakes.  
  
Harry didn't get the prayer, though; he went right on. "So, from now on, why don't you just focus on your own non-existent love life and stay the hell out of mine?"  
  
Even Seamus and Lavender looked up in time to see everything fall apart. Ron had simply had too much, and he made this fact quite clear the second his fist connected with the nose of his so-called best friend.  
  
Gasps filled the air from their classmates as Harry, so taken off-guard, fell over backwards in his chair. The pain shooting through his face was nothing compared to the intense feeling of disgust he felt at that moment. Clutching his nose to stop any blood that might want to fall, Harry stared up at Ron for only a second before jumping to his feet and glaring. "What the fuck are you doing?!"  
  
Ron gave no verbal answer. He simply got to his own feet and made his much bigger frame painfully obvious. Apparently, though, Harry, the Boy-Who-Had- Faced-Death-Countless-Times-And-Still-Managed-To-Live, was not at all intimidated. With the same force that Ron had used moments before, Harry swung his own punch, and the fight began. One of the girls screamed, but it was impossible to tell which one. The whole class was basically in shock as the two teenagers who had been the absolute best of friends for the past five years took out all of their aggression on the other's face. They had tumbled to the ground and were rolling around in what was a mix of fists and loud swears. There was blood on both of their faces, but neither of them was showing any sign of stopping the fight at any time soon.  
  
Professor Trelawney had jumped to her feet and was clasping a hand to her open mouth in shock. Harry glanced this and briefly figured that she'd convinced herself she'd predicted the fight weeks ago and was congratulating herself on yet another correct prediction. He didn't dwell on this thought, though, because a much more important task was at hand.  
  
Beating the shit or at least attempting to beat the shit out of his long- time best friend. Harry wasn't even quite sure why they were fighting, but he really didn't care. It felt inexplicably good to be able to take his aggressions out on something besides himself. He and Ron had never physically fought before, and, in truth, Harry hadn't really fought with anyone except for Dudley; that, of course, couldn't really be considered fighting because Dudley had always ordered someone to hold Harry down while he used his face as a punching bag. But despite the fact that Ron was quite a bit larger than he was, Harry was holding his own quite nicely, and he was sure he had all that pent-up aggression to thank for this miracle.  
  
Fists continued to swing and insults continued to be hurled until Harry felt a pair of hands grab his shoulders and forcefully pull him off the ground and to his feet. The moment he was removed from the fight, he noticed the pain that was crowding his face, but he didn't care. Seamus had him from behind and was holding him off until Dean managed to restrain Ron long enough to calm both of the fighters down.  
  
Seamus was the first to speak. "What the fuck was that?!"  
  
Harry shrugged away from the Irish boy, scowling the whole time but offering no explanation. He didn't look at Ron, but he didn't hear any answer coming from his direction, either. Professor Trelawney came hurrying over, looking quite disgusted that someone had dared to disturb the peaceful energies of her classroom.  
  
Glaring at both of them, she wagged a finger from one to the other. "Get to the hospital wing, so Madame Pomfrey can clean up those horrible messes! I will send the appropriate authority figures in that direction. Now go!"  
  
Harry hadn't expected anything else, so he simply grumbled a bit as he reached for his still-packed bag and headed for the trapdoor. He was vaguely aware of the sound of Ron's footsteps following him down the ladder, but he didn't turn around to look or speak to the redhead at all during their journey to the hospital wing. It wasn't until Madame Pomfrey had tutted softly at them and directed them to two empty beds in the far corner of the infirmary before exiting to get her supplies that Ron broke the thick silence.  
  
"I'm going to get expelled, I hope you know."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes and leaned back against the headboard of the bed. "No, you're not."  
  
"Yes, I am," Ron said indignantly. "I've already been caught once, remember? With the whole Malfoy thing?"  
  
"And so have I, remember? Valerie Priers."  
  
Ron let out a derisive laugh. "Oh, yeah, right. Like they're really going to expel Harry Potter."  
  
Harry felt himself growing angry again. "Shut up, Ron."  
  
Ron laughed again and turned to face Harry tauntingly. "It's not like you don't know it's the truth!"  
  
"Just shut up."  
  
"You sure as hell wouldn't shut up when I wanted you to," Ron pointed out smartly. "So, what makes you think I'm going to shut up now?"  
  
"Because I say so." The voice of Madame Pomfrey entered the room yet again as she crossed through the rows of beds to sit in a chair between the two beds. "Now, does anything feel broken or seriously damaged?" Both boys reluctantly shook their heads, and Madame Pomfrey nodded, pouring a thick potion onto a towel. "Good then. Now, Mr. Weasley, let me see your lip." Ron's lip was sliced open and spurting blood quickly. He cringed when the nurse held the towel to the open cut and started cleaning the wound. She did the same with Harry's nose, and she muttered a quick spell to close the cuts. "Now, the bruising will have to go away on its own. I should send you back to class, but I want you to stay here for a few hours at least, just to make sure that you're both okay."  
  
She disappeared out of the room again, and Ron was about to jump back into a verbal argument. He was cut off, however, by the sound of the door opening again. Both boys looked down at their beds, carefully avoiding the eyes of a very angry-looking Professor McGonagall. She didn't allow their avoided gazes for long, though, because the moment she reached the area between their beds, she spoke sharply. "Look at me."  
  
Ron and Harry both took her order seriously and looked up. She was staring at them incredulously with both arms crossed under her chest. For a long moment, she didn't speak. Perhaps she was letting them sweat it out, but when she did speak, her voice was extremely ill-toned.  
  
"I just cannot believe that the two of you are so childish and immature that... I just can't believe it! How could you be so stupid?!" Ron and Harry, thankfully, weren't stupid enough to think that she wanted an answer to her question, and they stayed quiet. "I have warned you time and time and time again this year about the dangers of getting distracted and weighed down by petty things! I don't know what you were fighting about, and I don't even want to know. The only thing I do want to know is that the two of you can at least be mature enough to work out whatever stupid differences caused this fight because the last thing that either of you needs at this moment is to be fighting with each other!"  
  
Harry looked down at the comforter on his bed and started to speak quietly. "We..." He was cut off, however, by the sound of the door opening a third time and the sight of Professor Lupin crossing the room, an angry and determined look on his face.  
  
He stopped right in front of the pair of Gryffindors and their head of house. Looking very sharply at each boy in return, he turned his eyes back to the other teacher and addressed her. "Professor McGonagall, may I please have a word with Harry and Ron?"  
  
McGonagall looked quite put out by the suggestion that someone interrupt her discipline process. Turning sharply to her former-student, she said, "Professor Lupin, if you don't mind, I am trying to have a discussion with my students."  
  
Professor Lupin nodded. "I understand, but I assure you that I will take proper care of the situation. Please, Professor."  
  
Professor McGonagall looked sternly at each of her students before finally giving in. "Alright. But alert me if you need any assistance whatsoever."  
  
"Yes, Ma'am." Professor Lupin waited for the older teacher to exit completely before he turned back to the students at hand. If Harry and Ron had momentarily been thankful that Lupin had taken over or thought that they were getting off easy, they immediately thought differently. His voice was even more outraged than the Transfiguration teacher's had been. "What the hell happened?!"  
  
"We were fighting," Harry answered timidly.  
  
Obviously, Lupin already knew. He looked crazily at the smaller of the two students and said, "Oh, no shit. I had no idea, Harry."  
  
Harry looked down once again.  
  
"What I want to know," Lupin went on, "is what exactly caused your momentary lapses in sanity." Ron opened his mouth, but the teacher cut him off. "No, I take that back. I don't even want to know. Because nothing, I mean nothing, should be important enough to make you hit your best friend."  
  
If guilt was what he was after, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher had accomplished his goal. Harry and Ron were both looking shamefully down at their beds.  
  
"Are you two completely stupid?!" His voice was louder this time, and Ron and Harry knew they were in for just as bad, if not worse, of a fate as the one Professor McGonagall would have dished out. "Is there a brain in those thick heads at all? This is not some sort of joke, this is serious shit! Are you both aware that there are people out there who would like nothing more than to see the two of you dead?"  
  
This definitely caused them to both look up. Harry glanced at Ron who was looking quite ill, and he immediately started to feel guilt. Opening his mouth reluctantly, he spoke timidly. "Professor, we..."  
  
But Lupin just glared at him. "What do you think those people do when they get news that Harry Potter and Ron Weasley are not only arguing with each other but throwing punches as well? Don't you realize that's exactly what they want?"  
  
"But how would they know?" Ron's voice was just as quiet and timid as Harry's.  
  
Lupin looked like he was in half-shock that the question had even been asked. "Please tell me you're not serious." When he got no response, he let out a disbelieving laugh. "Have you forgotten that several of the students in this school happen to be the sons and daughters of those very same people who want to see you dead? Have you forgotten how quickly news travels at this school? I'm willing to bet that the news of this fight has already made a full-circle in the gossip loop."  
  
Almost as if by magic (and maybe it was), the door to the infirmary opened again, and Hermione came hurrying into the room, dragging her large back of books behind her. She finally dropped it and actually ran the remaining length of the room until she stopped beside Professor Lupin, panting. She looked from one best friend to the other and then back again before finally bursting out with a question.  
  
"What the hell happened?!"  
  
It was one of those rare moments when Hermione cursed, but neither of the boys could even enjoy it because she was so furious, they were both knocked speechless.  
  
"You two are so stupid! I can't even believe that I'm friends with people as stupid as the two of you are! What the hell were you thinking?!"  
  
Harry and Ron both tried very hard to correctly process the questions and insults being thrown in their direction by the third of their trio. Harry was quite offended, but he figured things would be much better if he just kept his mouth closed. Ron, however, seemed to think quite differently and opened his mouth before anyone could stop him.  
  
"Well, excuse us for not being the brilliant, know-it-all, suck up that you are!"  
  
Hermione's eyes darkened a bit, and Harry was almost certain that she was rather hurt by Ron's words. He really couldn't fathom why, though, seeing as Ron called her a know-it-all at least twice a week and had since they'd been eleven years old. She didn't make her hurt known too well, though, because as quickly as the look had come, it passed. Narrowing her chocolate eyes, she glared at the redhead.  
  
"You are such an insufferable prat! I can't believe I almost..." Her voice trailed off, and she huffed loudly. "I just can't believe it!"  
  
"You can't believe what, Hermione?" Ron challenged loudly. "You can't believe that you lowered your standards enough to befriend two idiots like us?!"  
  
Hermione turned bright red, not from shame but from anger. "No, I can't believe that I thought... You know what? I don't even care!"  
  
"You don't even care about what?!" Ron asked immediately. "Just say it, Hermione!"  
  
Harry spoke up at this point. Turning his own glare in Ron's direction, he said, "Lay off of her, Ron!"  
  
"You shut up, Harry!" Ron said instantly. "This is all your fucking fault anyway!"  
  
"What the hell are you talking about?!"  
  
"Just shut up! All of you!" Professor Lupin's loud and commanding voice immediately silenced all three students. When he achieved the gaining of all of their attentions, he swiftly summoned a chair from the other end of the room and placed it directly between the two hospital beds. Pointing at Hermione and then at the chair, he promptly said, "Sit," and she obeyed. Taking a deep breath, the teacher started speaking. "Now that you've all settled down and shut those incredibly huge mouths of yours, I'm going to talk. And you're all going to listen- no interruptions, understand?"  
  
A collective murmur of, "Yes, Sir," was his answer.  
  
Professor Lupin nodded, obviously happy with the response, and started his lecture.  
  
***********************************************  
  
For the information obtained in Professor Remus Lupin's lecture, please tune in for the next installment of "When Things Start to Change."  
  
I know this chapter was kind of choppy, but it is leading up to a very important part of the story. Please leave feedback and let me know what you think! 


	26. What Are Friends For?

A/N: Well, this was fast, wasn't it? THANKS SO MUCH for your feedback, guys! It is so motivating!!!  
  
I would like to address one thing, though. The reason Professor Lupin is so casual with the trio is because he feels like he can treat them as equals instead of average students.  
  
Disclaimer: Still not mine!  
  
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Three fifteen year old Gryffindors sat in silence as their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher looked sternly from one to the next to the next. They were all smart enough to know that Professor Lupin, while he was definitely one of their "cooler" teachers was not a man to mess with. They'd seen his temper flare in class when his students had gotten too loud or too rowdy. They'd seen the way he sneered at Snape in disgust. They'd seen all of this.  
  
But he'd never really yelled at them.  
  
Perhaps it was because he felt sorry for them, or maybe he felt protective, or maybe they just reminded him so much of himself and his own best friends at that age that he couldn't bring himself to be angry at them for any of the stupid things they did. However, at that moment, he was clearly angry, and all three teenagers knew they were in for a very harsh chewing out.  
  
Ron was so angry with Harry that he really didn't care if he was going to get in trouble for his earlier actions. Harry was currently battling between feeling extreme dislike toward his best friend and feeling extreme guilt because one of his father's best friends was so visibly upset with him. Hermione was feeling rather slighted, as she was undoubtedly in for the same blessing out that the boys would be getting when she really hadn't done anything at all except for scream at them a little. She certainly hadn't been involved in the incident that had landed them in the infirmary in the first place.  
  
"Now, listen to me," Professor Lupin said sternly. "And listen good. I honestly don't give a damn what caused this stupid little brawl because I'm sure whatever caused it was petty and unimportant. In fact, the only important thing at the moment is the fact that you get over it and quickly." He looked directly at Harry. "Are you aware that there are hundreds of people out there right now who want to kill you?"  
  
Harry scowled and looked down at the bed-coverings, carefully biting his tongue so as not to blurt out with, "No! I had no idea whatsoever!" in a voice a little more sarcastic than would be profitable in their current situation.  
  
Apparently, though, Lupin actually wanted to hear a response because he stared expectantly at Harry for a long moment. "Excuse me, Mr. Potter, but I think I asked you a question."  
  
Harry looked up, willing himself not to be a total smartass. Slightly scowling, he muttered a barely audible, "Yes."  
  
Lupin looked at him sternly, and Harry half-expected him to say, "Yes, what?" But he thankfully didn't. He, instead, turned his attention to Ron and addressed the redhead. "And just what do you think your mother would do if we had to write home and tell her that her youngest son and his best friend were in a petty argument, which, in turn, resulted in the exact thing the Dark Side needed to claim both of their lives? Do you think she'd be happy about that?"  
  
Ron, obviously learning from Harry's mistake of thinking Lupin's questions were rhetorical, muttered a quiet, "No," and Lupin went on.  
  
"Your mother is pregnant, no?" Ron gave a slight nod. "What do you think would happen to that baby if your mother got the news that her youngest son was very much dead?"  
  
Harry felt extremely guilty at the mention of Mrs. Weasley; she'd been the closest thing to a mother he'd ever known, and he wouldn't do anything to hurt her. Ron, too, was obviously feeling quite the guilt trip because he had to look away and out the window.  
  
Thankfully, Professor Lupin didn't press for an answer to his latest question, and he simply moved onto the third member of the trio. He looked very pointedly at Hermione and said, "And you, Miss Granger, happen to be in terrible danger as well. Of course, I'm sure you already know that, seeing as you are not only of Muggle-born descent but also best friends with these two . I'm sure you would never do anything to endanger yourself in any way at all, now would you?" The sarcasm was not missed.  
  
Hermione spoke up determinedly, not thinking that the lecture was at all fair. "But Professor, I didn't..."  
  
She was cut off. "I am well-aware of the fact that you had nothing to do with the earlier incident, but that doesn't change the fact that you seem to be just as delusional about the situation as Ron and Harry are." He turned his attention back to the lot of them. "People want to kill you. They want you all dead. And the sooner the better."  
  
No one dared to speak.  
  
Except for the teacher, of course. He went right on as if he hadn't just predicted the deaths of three Fifth Years. "And there are people here who are more than willing to give those people the information they desire." His face took on a look of slight disgust. "Just take for example that little shit Draco Malfoy." All three Gryffindors scowled at the mention of their arch-enemy. "Do you even know who his father is?"  
  
They'd have to be completely thick not to know.  
  
"That prick got off the first time around," Lupin went on disgustedly. "He fed the courts some bullshit about the Imperious Curse, but anyone with half a brain knew he was lying. Too bad for us the Ministry is made up of a bunch of no-brained idiots." Ron looked quite offended at the remark, and Lupin obviously saw this. "The Ministry Court Officials, anyway," he corrected fleetingly. "But he's back now; you saw him at the resurrection, right Harry?" Harry nodded. "And he's one of the worst, let me tell you. He's probably the biggest threat you've got because he has not only the obvious agenda against Harry, he also hates your family." He turned to Ron at the last part of the statement. "I'm sure he would just love to be the one to capture Famous Harry Potter, and I'm willing to bet that knocking off one of Arthur Weasley's kids and a Muggle-born who happened to have higher marks than his own son would just be a couple of added bonuses. And I'm sure dear old Draco would just love to be the one to lead his father straight to what he wanted to find."  
  
Hermione spoke up then, obviously willing to interrupt in an attempt to make an obvious point known. "But we're not stupid enough to run and tell Malfoy anything. And he's certainly not stupid enough to ask us."  
  
The teacher just gave Hermione a disbelieving look, one that she wasn't used to receiving from professors; it clearly said, "Are you completely mad?" He verbally said, "Well, have you ever heard the phrase, 'Good news travels fast?' Just how did you hear about Ron and Harry's fight anyway?"  
  
Hermione looked down at her lap, obviously feeling quite stupid. Quietly, she said, "Padma Patil told me." Padma, who had obviously been nowhere near the Divination classroom, had quite obviously heard it from someone who had, most likely her twin sister. Gossip certainly did make the rounds at Hogwarts quickly enough.  
  
Professor Lupin nodded, satisfied with the answer. He turned to the students again and spoke seriously. "Just think about what you're doing by fighting with each other. Do any of you have any idea what it's like to lose your best friends?" He looked very pointedly at Harry, his eyes clouding with unmistakable sadness. "Take it from me, it's not a good feeling." Images of what the Marauders must have been like at Hogwarts instantly filled Harry's mind, and he suddenly missed his parents. Obviously, Lupin did, too, because he closed his eyes briefly before speaking again. "I know that none of you are stupid. But if you don't quit acting that way, you're going to end up in something you can't get out of." His tone quieted greatly, and he almost took on a rather sympathetic look. "And I know that the three of you love each other, but I'm not going to baby you and stand over you until you apologize. You have to do that on your own. And I expect you all to think twice before being so thick in the future."  
  
With that, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher simply turned around exited the infirmary. He didn't dish out a hundred detentions or any sort of punishment at all. Harry almost wished he would have, though; it would have been better than the horrible guilt he was feeling as he sat in complete silence with the two people who had meant more to him than any others ever had. The awkwardness was crazy between them, and Harry wished more than anything that he could just steal a Time-Turner and do the whole thing over again.  
  
He hadn't really wanted to fight anyway.  
  
Hermione was the first to speak, but it wasn't really something that was going to smooth over the timid situation. Quietly, she stood up, carefully avoiding both boys' eyes and said, "I have to go back to class."  
  
Harry wanted to tell her to wait, but he didn't. Ron didn't, either, and so she left, gathering up her dropped bag on the way out the door. The awkwardness filling the air between Ron and Harry was now doubly thick. Harry wanted to say something, anything just to make things better.  
  
In all truth, he hated fighting.  
  
Especially with Ron.  
  
The weeks he'd spent the year before not speaking with Ron had, in all honesty, been the worst weeks of his life since he'd been at Hogwarts. All the other times that he'd felt ousted and been made to feel like a pariah, he'd had Ron by his side. But for those weeks in Fourth Year, he'd been completely alone. Well, not completely; Hermione had, of course, stayed by his side and kept him company. And Harry liked Hermione alright; she was definitely handy to have around when there was a tough Charms question, and she could even be funny when she was having a good day. But Hermione wasn't Ron, and Ron was what Harry needed. He needed him more than anything, and he couldn't, wouldn't let this come between them.  
  
Because, like Professor Lupin had said, losing your best friends wasn't a nice feeling.  
  
"Ron, I'm sorry."  
  
His words had come out before he'd even managed to think them properly. However, this just went to show him that it was the only thing that needed to be said. He turned timidly to face who hoped was still his best friend.  
  
Ron looked over; he was quite pale in the face, and Harry suspected that he, too, had been imagining what it must be like to lose your best friends. When he met Harry's eyes, though, he simply shook his head.  
  
"No. I'm sorry." He looked away for a second and then back to the other boy. "I really didn't mean to hit you."  
  
Harry shrugged, beyond thankful that Ron didn't hate him. "I deserved it."  
  
But Ron shook his head again. "No, Harry. I'm serious. I really didn't mean to; I mean, I don't know what happened."  
  
Harry knew that Ron was capable of fumbling around excuses for hours, and he also knew that Ron really had no real reason to apologize. After all, Harry was well aware of the fact that the fight had been mostly his fault, and he told Ron as much. "I was being an ass. It was my own fault."  
  
"But..." Ron trailed off. "I..." He sighed finally, "You're my best friend, Harry."  
  
Harry understood perfectly, and he realized he didn't need to hear anymore. Anything they said would just be repetitive because things were already fine between them; they understood things about each other that other people didn't, and this was one of those things. Harry simply offered a half-smile and a shrug.  
  
Ron was quiet for a moment before breaking into his own nervous grin and giving a single nod of the head..  
  
**********************************************  
  
Ron and Harry hadn't been at either lunch or dinner, and Hermione suspected that Madame Pomfrey was being very strict with their "recovery" and keeping them in bed for most of the day. Hermione really couldn't see what they had to recover from, though; unless, of course, being idiotic prats was considered an illness these days. She hadn't gone to visit them anymore because she'd been far too busy thinking about what Professor Lupin had said and trying to make sense of it all.  
  
"Do any of you have any idea what it's like to lose your best friends?"  
  
The simple question had sent immediate chills through her body, and Hermione was instantly filled with a dread she'd been trying very hard to ignore for the past few months. She wouldn't tell anyone, but her biggest fear was no longer failing all of her subjects as it had been in Third Year. She prayed daily that Professor Lupin wouldn't bring another Boggart to class and make them all face their fears again because if he did, she wasn't sure she could face hers and make anything at all funny out of it.  
  
Her biggest fear was losing someone she loved.  
  
"And I know that the three of you love each other."  
  
Well, the werewolf definitely spoke the truth with that statement. She'd never come right out and told Harry or Ron that she loved them, and she was willing to bet her entire life's savings that they certainly hadn't said those words to each other. But they all knew it.  
  
Hermione had loved very few things in her fifteen years. She loved her parents, of course, and she'd loved Crookshanks from the moment she saw him in the pet store two years earlier. She'd loved books for as long as she could remember, and she actually loved school, making her the butt of many not-so-funny jokes by her schoolmates.  
  
But Harry and Ron were the first people her own age (cousins not included) that she could claim to actually love. In fact, they were the only people in the world she could really claim as true friends. And that, of course, was why she loved them. She had other "friends," yes. Parvati and Lavender were okay sometimes, and Ginny was definitely a fairly good confidante. Neville was her friend; and if anyone deserved friendship it was Neville Longbottom. There were others, too- Dean and Seamus and a few younger Gryffindors that she would consider a bit more than associates; she had friends in her Arithmancy class from the other houses, but it wasn't like she went to any of them when she had a real problem.  
  
It wasn't like she went to anyone except for Harry and Ron.  
  
They were her first friends- the first friends she'd ever had in her entire life. They were the only people she trusted completely and wholly, no matter what the circumstances (well, for the most part anyway...). They hadn't cared that her teeth had been too big for her mouth or that her hair was larger than her body frame. They hadn't cared that she had an overpowering need to always be right and always get the answers in class before anyone else. Okay, so maybe they had cared about that, but it hadn't caused them to stop being her friend. They hadn't ever cared that she wasn't the prettiest or the most popular girl in their year; they'd never thought less of her because she wasn't pure-blooded.  
  
Because that's just how friends were.  
  
Harry was like the brother she never had; he was a lot like her in many aspects, and she definitely had more in common with him than she did most of the other students at their school. He'd been raised in a Muggle home just as she had; granted, their upbringings were undoubtedly quite a bit different judging from the people who had raised them. But still, they'd both spent eleven years of their lives thinking that witches and wizards were fictional characters; they'd both gotten their early education in Muggle primary schools. He was sensitive enough, and while he might not be as into protecting every single living creature's rights like Hermione was, he was more attentive to those things than most people. Definitely more so than Ron.  
  
Ron.  
  
Now, how in the world had that even happened? She was not supposed to be friends with him, not at first anyway. He'd been awful to her in their first couple of months of school, teasing her and saying mean things to her. But then he'd saved her life- well, him and Harry. At first, Hermione had been so wrapped up in the whole "Harry Potter Story" that she hadn't even really thought about Ron's part in the whole Troll Rescue Mission, other than the fact that it was all his fault to begin with, of course. She'd simply assumed that since Famous Harry Potter was such a magnificent hero that he'd planned and executed her rescuing all by himself; Ron had simply been around when it happened. In the days following that Halloween night, she hadn't even wanted to associate with Ron Weasley, but he was already Harry's best friend, and if she wanted to be friends with Harry Potter, she had to take Ron Weasley, too. Of course, as the months of their first year passed, she realized that she'd been wrong; Ron had been just as instrumental in saving her life as Harry had, and Ron was just as good of a friend as Harry was. They soon became so tight that the three of them were nearly inseparable, and they'd stayed that way for five years.  
  
But Ron was a world different from Harry, and he was a universe different from herself. Perhaps that was why they'd always fought so much. They'd started out bickering, and things hadn't changed much over the years; they still fought about petty things, and they still got so exasperated with each other that screaming was the only possible solution to the problem. There was no other person on the planet who could work her up the way Ron could. He was simply infuriating sometimes! But they never meant anything they said in their arguments; at least she never did, and she was pretty positive that he didn't, either. They would fight and then things would blow over as quickly as they'd blown up.  
  
Except for that one time...  
  
That one time back in Third Year when they'd had their biggest fight of all- the one about Scabbers and Crookshanks. She hadn't meant for it get as serious as it had, and she was pretty sure that Ron hadn't, either. But that didn't matter because it had; it had gotten serious, and it had resulted in months of not speaking with each other. Of course, the whole situation had only been made worse by the fact that Harry was also angry with her over that stupid broomstick and had taken a rare page out of Ron's book and given her the silent treatment, too. So, she'd been completely friendless during what was, quite possibly, the toughest time she'd ever experienced at school. Of course, that had been her own fault; she knew now that she should have never tried to take on as much as she had, but she was only thirteen years old and quite under the impression that she could do anything.  
  
Anything except survive without her best friends.  
  
How many nights had she cried herself to sleep that year? Parvati and Lavender had gotten so angry with her that they'd threatened to tell the whole school she was crying herself into slumber every night if she didn't stop. That's when she had taken to staying in the Common Room later than everyone else and breaking down into tears the second she was alone. Once she'd cried herself silly and couldn't see straight anymore, she'd finally retreat to her dorm and cry the last of the tears silently while her roommates slept on. Why was she crying? Maybe she was just overworked, or maybe she was just miserable. It didn't really matter.  
  
She remembered what was by far the worst night of that year clearly. It had been the night following the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw Quidditch match, and a huge party was being thrown in honor of the Gryffindor team. She'd gone to the match and sat quietly between Lavender and Brown and Dean Thomas, neither of which had so much as spoken to her during the entire match. The party afterward was much the same; she sat in a corner of the Common Room trying to do some reading for Muggle Studies and growing increasingly annoyed with all the loud and immature celebrations surrounding her. Harry was the only person who had even deemed to speak to her that evening, but she knew it was just out of guilt; he was trying to smooth things over without actually apologizing for the whole Firebolt incident. He'd asked her to join the party, but she'd told him she had too much to do and that Ron didn't want her there anyway.  
  
:"If Scabbers hadn't just been eaten, he could have had some of those Fudge Flies. He used to really like them-"  
  
Ron's words had sent her over the edge, and she'd broken down completely, bursting into tears and running up the staircase to the girls' dormitory.  
  
No one came after her.  
  
But later that night, after she'd finally fallen into a fitful sleep, she'd been awaken again by a loud shrieking, coming from the room which ran parallel to her own- the Third Year Boys. Panic had hit her immediately, and she wasted no time leaping out of bed and hurrying in the direction of the boys' dormitory. She'd stopped, though, when she saw all five Third Year boys racing down the stairs in a panic, Harry in the lead and Ron right behind him. Her fist instinct had been to race over to her best friends and ask what was wrong, but she remembered only a second later that neither of those "best friends" was really speaking to her. So, she hung back in the shadow of the staircase and waited.  
  
Percy appeared telling everyone to go back to bed immediately just like the Head Boy that he was. But when Ron had grabbed his older brother's arm and spoken in that horribly faint voice, Hermione had felt something she hadn't wanted to feel.  
  
"Perce- Sirius Black! In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"  
  
The whole Common Room stilled, and Hermione felt her heart actually stop for a moment. Sinking further back into the shadows, she slumped down on the bottom of the stairs and shakily put her head into her hands, whispering, "No, no, no," to whatever she'd thought would listen at that moment.  
  
:"IT WASN'T A NIGHTMARE! PROFESSOR, I WOKE UP, AND SIRIUS BLACK WAS STANDING OVER ME, HOLDING A KNIFE!"  
  
That was the next thing she heard, or at least it was the next thing she comprehended. It was the last, too, because after hearing Ron tell their head of house those words, Hermione had leapt up from her place on the stairs and raced back up them to her own bed where she collapsed in a heap of horrible sobs.  
  
Perhaps it had been at that moment that Hermione had first realized just how important Ron and Harry's friendship was to her. It had certainly been the first time that she'd ever actually feared for their lives. In their first year, she'd been too young and too inexperienced to realize the exact danger they were placing themselves in by going after the Philosopher's Stone. And in Second Year, she'd been petrified when the boys had dropped a mile below the school into the Chamber of Secrets. But that night back in Third Year, she'd realized that both of her best friends were in danger of dying, and it had been all the wake up call she needed. Of course, it had still taken a few days sort out the argument, but once she'd made up with the boys, she'd promised herself that she would never again let herself get involved in an argument silly enough to actually ruin her friendship.  
  
But then... Things were so much different now than they'd been two years ago. Two years ago, she'd never looked at Ron and thought about how adorably cute he was. Two years ago, she'd never woken up from a dream in which Ron had not only been the key-player but had also been her own personal hero. Two years ago, things hadn't been so bloody complicated!  
  
And after last night, well, she just figured that maybe they were over their fighting stage and had finally moved onto something else. He'd been so nice to her, and he'd... He'd almost kissed her.  
  
And what was even worse than that was the fact that she'd wanted him to.  
  
Not that she knew why or even when this change in feeling had occurred. All she knew was that it had and that she, while being slightly scared, was also very interested in exploring this newfound emotion. Questions about why it was Ron and not Harry the Hero had flooded her mind for the past several months, but when she actually thought about it, she understood quite well.  
  
Ron was her polarity.  
  
He as the exact opposite of her, as she was of him. And yet they still needed each other to survive. It was like the Yin Yang sign- one just didn't make sense without the other. And so maybe it was always supposed to be Ron; Hermione didn't know, and she didn't care. All she cared about was the fact that whatever silly illusion she'd had of the two of them maybe being something more than friends was just that- a silly illusion.  
  
Ron had proved as much earlier when he'd yelled at her. It hadn't been so much the "brilliant, know-it-all, suck up" comment that had upset her, as it had been the, "You can't believe what, Hermione?! That you lowered your standards enough to befriend two idiots like us?!" How could he even think that? She didn't regret their friendship, and she had never considered the relationship she had with the boys to have anything to do with "lowering her standards."  
  
And he was just as much of an idiot as he'd proclaimed himself to be if he thought for a second that she had.  
  
As if Fate really did hate her, the Portrait Hole opened at that moment and in walked none other than Mr. Ronald Weasley himself. She was simply in no mood to listen to anymore of his stupidity, so she simply reached down for her bag that was sitting beside the table and started packing away her books and parchment, all in the intent of going up to her dorm before he could speak to her. If he was going to anyway, of course.  
  
However, he apparently was very intent on speaking with her because he walked quite quickly over to her table and reached for her bag, sliding it out of her reach and looking at her intently.  
  
"We need to talk."  
  
Hermione, quite annoyed that he was attempting to halt her packing-up, simply rolled her eyes and reached for the bag again. However, Ron actually picked it up and placed it in a chair on the other side of the table. Hermione huffed up and glared at him. "Give me my bag," she said evenly.  
  
Ron, standing in front of her, so as to block any attempts she might make at escaping, shook his head seriously. "We really need to talk."  
  
Hermione realized that Ron was not going to back down, so she simply continued to send him sharp looks. "Where's Harry? Landed him in St. Mungo's, yet, have you?"  
  
Ron glanced down at the ground. "He's with Dumbledore. Will you please just talk to me?"  
  
There was no use fighting it; when Ron said, "Please," Hermione automatically gave in. No matter what the question. And, in all honestly, she really did think they needed to talk. There were some things that had been avoided for far too long, and they needed to resolve those. Sighing softly, she quietly said, "Fine."  
  
Ron flashed her a nervous grin and then held his hand out to her. "Want to go for a walk?"  
  
Hermione eyed the offered hand for a moment, memories of the same question being asked by herself only the night before coming back into her mind. Carefully, she placed her own small hand into his larger one and nodded slightly. "Okay."  
  
Ron blushed, as though he was suddenly aware that he was holding a girl's hand in the middle of the Gryffindor Common Room. Thankfully, though, there weren't that many people around, as most people were either still down at dinner of elsewhere within the castle. There were only a few Second Years playing a game of Exploding Snap by the fire and a couple of Seventh Years who were studying diligently for an upcoming Potions exam, which was obviously quite important to their graduation. Once he got over his initial embarrassment, Ron gently tugged her in the direction of the Portrait Hole and held it open for her as she stepped into the corridor. When he'd joined her, and the Fat Lady had gotten over her momentary and quite unladylike snickering, she'd turned and asked him where they were going.  
  
"Well, there's something I want to show you," he answered nervously.  
  
Hermione cautiously let him lead her down the corridors and out the back door of the castle; neither of them spoke at all until they reached their destination, hands still entwined with each other's.  
  
"The Quidditch Pitch?" Hermione asked, confused that Ron had brought her to a place she'd been dozens of times before. "Why did you want to show me this?"  
  
"Not the Pitch," he answered fleetingly, tugging her in the direction of the surrounding bleachers. "I wanted to show you this."  
  
He'd pulled her to what looked like a door leading into the ground. It was overgrown with weeds, but it was there and able to be made out under close inspection. Ron let go of her hand and dropped to his knees beside the little door. Pulling up some of the weeds that were covering it, he tugged on the small handle until it finally popped open, revealing a very dark hole underneath it. Hermione looked at Ron curiously before dropping to her own knees and peering down into the darkness. It was impossible to tell exactly what was below them, but Hermione suspected it was some sort of a room, though she definitely didn't want to drop down there and find out.  
  
Ron, however, did exactly that.  
  
Without a word to her, he swung his legs over the side of the hole and squeezed his body through the opening. "Ron!" she screamed out of instinct before hearing his feet hit the ground a second later.  
  
She heard him mutter, "Lumos!" and the room suddenly lit up by the light of his wand. She saw that the room wasn't too deep at all, and she could see Ron's freckled face perfectly as it stared expectantly up at her. "Come on," he said pointedly.  
  
Hermione just stared down at him. Finally, she widened her eyes and said, "Are you crazy?! I'm not going down there!"  
  
She saw Ron roll his eyes. "Oh, don't be stupid," he said exasperatedly. "It's just a room; there's nothing down here. I swear."  
  
Hermione bit her lower lip nervously. She was fairly sure that Ron wouldn't lie to her and drop her into some horrible room infested with rats and snakes and bugs, as he himself was quite terrified of spiders. Swallowing whatever apprehension she had, Hermione ran her tongue over her lips and carefully grasped the edge of the hole before lowering herself into it slowly. When her feet didn't hit the ground, she inwardly swore and tightened the grip she had on the edge of the doorway. "Help me," she said expectantly.  
  
She heard Ron's voice snicker and then say, "Just jump down."  
  
"No!" she said, quickly losing both her patience and her grip. "Get me a chair!"  
  
"Hermione, there aren't any chairs," Ron said slowly. The amusement in his voice was not at all well-hidden. "You're only a couple of feet from the floor. Just jump."  
  
"No!" she said again. "Help me!"  
  
Ron sighed, and she heard his footsteps approaching the area where her body was hanging. However, the second she felt his arms wrap around her middle, supporting her weight with his body, she instantly wished she would have just jumped. She tried very hard not to concentrate on the prickling sensation that was shooting through her body, starting where his hands were pressed into her back and ending at the tips of her toes. Without thinking, she looked down and met Ron's eyes; he was staring back up at her with the same sort of intense look that she was feeling- if feeling a look was even possible.  
  
"You probably need to let go."  
  
His statement was quiet, but it immediately knocked some well-needed sense into Hermione, and she instantly let go of her grip on the side of the opening. Ron grunted dramatically as her full weight came to rest on him, and Hermione rolled her eyes, swatting him on the arm. To her surprise, though, he didn't set her down; he simply held her halfway in the air and grinned at her. "I'm just kidding. You really need to start eating more; you don't weigh anything."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes again. "I seem to remember you telling me I was fat that night at the coast."  
  
The mention of "that night" immediately jerked both of them into a semi- shocked state. Ron looked up at her curiously, still not setting her down. "You remember that night?"  
  
Blushing furiously, as she'd claimed to have no memory of the evening, Hermione stammered around for an explanation. "No. I mean... A little bit."  
  
A rather mischievous look covered Ron's face as he spoke. "You know, you really owe me big time for that night."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes for a third time, instantly getting over her momentary embarrassment. "I think I've paid you back plenty of times by doing your homework for the past five years."  
  
"Hermione, you have never done my homework. 'How will you learn?!' " he mimicked in a scarily accurate voice.  
  
"Put me down," Hermione said sharply, not at all impressed by his imitation.  
  
Ron laughed and finally sat her down. She looked around the room and saw that it wasn't very big and probably couldn't hold too much except for the two of them. With a raised eyebrow, she turned to Ron and said, "What is this place?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "I dunno. I never could figure out what it was supposed to be, but I found it last year."  
  
"Well, why did you bring me down here?"  
  
Ron paused and glanced away. Then he turned back to her and seriously said, "Because there's something I need to ask you."  
  
***********************************************  
  
Dum... Dum... Dum... Haha! Kill me now, okay? Because you'll just have to wait for the next installment to see what he wants to ask her!  
  
Leave feedback, please!!!! 


	27. The Question

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter! Sorry this one's delayed, but I got sidetracked by a short little story that wouldn't get out of my head. It's called "Inside the Heads." Check it out if you can! (Shameless plug).  
  
Disclaimer: Alas, they still do not belong to me... How sad.  
  
***************************************8  
  
Hermione was fairly aware of her heart slowing down as Ron carefully set her down and said, "Because there's something I need to ask you."  
  
What exactly did he need to ask her? A million and one thoughts flooded her mind all at once, but she told herself that Ron would never logically ask any of those questions. A flicker of hopefulness wouldn't die, though, and she clung to it as she carefully said, "What do you need to ask?"  
  
Ron swallowed in what Hermione knew all too well as nervousness. He shifted his weight from one foot to the next, and Hermione grew even more hopeful. Maybe this was it; maybe they were finally going to stop playing this silly little game they'd been at for two years. She unconsciously bit down on her lower lip, her eyes looking up to meet his own with just a hint of hope.  
  
"Um..." Ron glanced away and then back to her. "Well, do you remember last year?"  
  
Last year? Viktor Krum? Was this what all this was about?  
  
She squinted her eyes in slight confusion. "Of course I remember last year. Why?"  
  
Ron looked quite uncomfortable, and Hermione wondered just what exactly this whole thing was about. "You remember when Harry's name got put into the Goblet, and I didn't believe him when he said he didn't put it in?"  
  
Hermione nodded, now far beyond slight confusion.  
  
Ron nodded, too, and then went on. "Well, I... I just was so mad at him." He stopped talking and glanced down at the ground. He sighed a bit inwardly and shook his head. "And I think maybe I was a little jealous, too."  
  
Hermione had known as much; in fact, she'd been the very one to point this valuable piece of information out to Harry. Ron had never admitted it in so many words, but she'd known from the minute they'd returned to the Common Room after the feast that he was being bitten very sharply by the jealousy bug.  
  
"That stupid prat!" he'd exclaimed to no one in particular, though Hermione was the only one around. "He always has to be the center of everything, doesn't he? He can't let one single damn thing go without shoving his short little nose into it, can he? Even when he's too bloody young!"  
  
But even though she already knew this, she still didn't know what this had to do with whatever Ron wanted to ask her. She didn't comment, though; she simply waited for Ron to continue, which he did shortly after pausing.  
  
"I didn't mean to," he added quietly. "Honestly, I didn't. But I just couldn't help it."  
  
Hermione raised a single eyebrow. "Didn't mean to what, Ron?"  
  
It definitely looked like Ron was having a fair amount of difficulty with admitting all of this, but he went on nonetheless. "I didn't mean to be jealous. I mean, I didn't mean for it to go on like it did." He swallowed again. "I didn't know that he would take things so seriously."  
  
"How did you think he was going to take it, Ron?" she asked calmly. "You accused him of being a liar."  
  
Ron blushed slightly in the dim lighting. He looked guilty even through the darkness, but Hermione didn't feel too much sympathy for him. "I know," he admitted quietly. "But... Never mind, you don't understand."  
  
"Don't understand what, Ron?" She looked up at him with slightly narrowed eyes. "Tell me what I don't understand because you wouldn't even give me a chance to understand last year."  
  
"Because you were always running off with Harry!" Ron exclaimed.  
  
Hermione started slightly at his sudden raising of voice. He was really being ludicrous if he expected her to apologize for refusing to join in on their little fight and turn her back against Harry. "Ron, no one else would even speak to him! You had your brothers, and you had Ginny. You even had Dean and Seamus! Who did Harry have?"  
  
Ron grimaced. Bitterly, he said, "Oh, yeah, like Fred and George have ever included me in anything that they've ever done. And why would I even want to hang out with Ginny? And I'm nothing but a third wheel around Dean and Seamus." He rolled his eyes. "And then you were always somewhere off with Harry, so it's not like I even had you."  
  
"I wasn't going to just turn my back on Harry, especially when I knew he didn't do anything wrong. And you want to know why, Ron? Because I know what it's like to have everyone against you, and it's not fun."  
  
Ron was silent for a long moment before regarding her and cautiously saying, "What are you talking about?"  
  
And then it all started coming out. All of the loneliness she'd felt and they way it had crushed her heart when she didn't have a single person to turn to. "Third Year! Don't you realize that you and Harry both completely stopped speaking to me for weeks? You don't understand what it's like to have no one who will even speak to you unless it's to make some sort of snide comment! You don't understand what it's like to be completely alone!" Ron just stared at her silently. In a quieter tone, she said, "It's horrible; trust me. I wouldn't do that to you, and I wasn't going to do it to Harry."  
  
"Hermione, I said I was sorry about all that," he said quietly.  
  
"No, you didn't!" Hermione said disbelievingly. "I apologized for it, but you never did."  
  
"Well, I'm sorry!" Ron said loudly, obviously hoping to cut her off before she went off in full tirade. "But it was a stupid fight."  
  
"I know it was stupid," she said indignantly. "That's why it was so horrible. If it had been about something important then maybe I could have dealt with it better. But all I could think of was the fact that the fight shouldn't have even been between us; it should have been between the animals. And I know that's dumb!" she went right on. "But we're both too stubborn to see silly things like that, and you know it."  
  
Ron looked down at the ground. "Well, I'm sorry, okay?" It was a much softer apology than the one he'd attempted moments earlier.  
  
Hermione wasn't exactly sure why she'd even brought up Third Year; she supposed that it had a lot to do with the fact that she'd just been thinking about it in the Common Room before Ron found her and convinced her to come down here. She'd never heard Ron sound so... She couldn't even think of the word she wanted to use to describe his tone. He sounded so sincere and so truly sorry that she felt a tad bad about it. She felt even worse when she was suddenly struck with the thought that he was probably sorry because he was blaming himself for the whole Scabbers/Harry/Sirius/Lupin thing that had happened that year. Not wanting to even get into all of that since she wasn't sure she could handle Ron blaming himself for keeping Scabbers, she changed the subject. "Why are we down here anyway?"  
  
Ron looked thankful for the switch of topic and finally looked up from the ground. "Oh! Right." He blushed a little more as if he was embarrassed about what he was about to say next. "Well, last year when Harry and I were fighting, I used to come down here whenever I knew I'd have no choice but to be around him." He looked embarrassed, as though he didn't really want to say what he said next. "And every time I'd see him, it would just make me even angrier, so whenever I came down here, I would..." He sighed and looked away.  
  
"You would what?"  
  
"I would write nasty things about him on the walls." Ron said all of this very quickly, and Hermione was almost positive that she must have heard him wrong.  
  
She raised an eyebrow at him and repeated his claim. "You wrote nasty things about him on the walls?" Surely, surely she had heard him incorrectly.  
  
Ron was turning red, and, to her surprise, he nodded sheepishly. "Yeah... And before you even tell me it was dumb, trust me, I already know."  
  
Hermione bit down very hard on her lower lip; it was all she could do to keep from laughing outright. Ron saw this and looked incredulously at her, so she had to reply. "Ron, what on earth could you have possibly written that was so nasty?"  
  
Ron glared shortly at her and then sent the light of his wand to the nearest wall where there was, in fact, writings scattered about. Hermione walked closer to them and peered at the words. Gasping, she turned back to Ron.  
  
"Ronald Weasley! How could you even be so incredibly crude?!"  
  
Ron moved the light back to the center of the room, so that she couldn't see the rather obscene language and statements any longer. His face was still very red, and he looked thoroughly embarrassed. She turned to look at him, still not quite believing that she'd actually read what she just had.  
  
He struggled around for an explanation. "I was angry, okay?"  
  
"You don't say?" The sarcasm was noted but not acknowledged.  
  
"Look, I didn't really mean any of that stuff. You know that, right?"  
  
Hermione studied the redhead in the semi-darkness of the underground room. She'd known Ron for five years, and she was fairly certain that he was telling the truth; the only people she could imagine him writing things like that about and actually meaning were one Draco Malfoy and one Professor Severus Snape. Still, though, she pursed her lips and looked sternly at him. "Why did you feel the need to bring me down here and show me such horrible things written on a wall?"  
  
Ron sighed. Then he looked up at her with what she knew to be the look he always got whenever he was trying to convince her to see her latest essay the morning it was due. She waited with narrowed eyes as he spoke. "Well, because I feel really bad about it. And then... You know, after today..." He seemed to be having difficulty coming up with the right way to phrase whatever it was that he wanted to say. He finally sighed once again and apparently gave up trying to come up with some proper way of saying it. "Harry is my best friend."  
  
Hermione just regarded him for several long moments. It was a rare occasion that Ron got even semi-sentimental, and if he did, she'd found that it was usually with her and never really about Harry. She knew they were best friends, but she knew that they didn't sit around talking about their friendship due to the stupidity and emotional block that all young men between the ages of twelve and twenty go through. She thought back briefly on the afternoon after the First Task. It had been the moment that had cleared up the silly little fight that Ron was now referring to, and it had been in that moment that Hermione had fully recognized that Ron and Harry were simply destined to be best friends for life. They hadn't even had to apologize to each other She was fairly certain that Ron had been about to stumble over something close to an apology, but Harry had simply shook his head and grinned, saying a meaningful, "Forget it."  
  
And things were fine.  
  
It was one of the single most infuriating moments of her life.  
  
Yes, she'd been overly grateful that the whole stupid thing was over, but she was also angry with disbelief that a simple shake of the head and a smile had done what she hadn't been successful in doing for six very long weeks. During the time that Harry and Ron had been fighting, she'd tried her best to remain neutral. Yes, she had spent a considerable bit more time with Harry than she had with Ron, but she'd had her reasons, as she'd just explained to Ron. However, that hadn't stopped her from going from one to the other and trying to convince them to talk things out and make up. She'd spent hours trying to think of a way to make the two of them reconcile, and in the end all it had taken was a stupid head shaking.  
  
Boys.  
  
She hadn't meant to burst into tears, but, you know... Girls and emotions and... She really hated being a girl sometimes, but that was beside the point. Instead of getting lost in yet another memory, she turned back to the here and now and saw Ron still looking rather embarrassed about admitting something that she'd known since the moment she met him.  
  
"Ron, I know he is." She said this slowly, so as not to shock him or anything...  
  
"Right." Ron swallowed. "And I didn't mean for today to happen, either, but... I don't know. It did." He shrugged. "Anyway, what I wanted to ask you was if you knew any way to make all this shit," he gestured to the writing and deftly ignored Hermione's disapproving look at his language, "disappear. I don't want Harry to find out that I wrote it, and if it's still here, there's always the chance that he might. I'd do it myself, but I don't know how. And I figured that since you knew just about everything else that you might..."  
  
He was cut off as Hermione flicked her wand in the direction of the wall and said, "Aboriri!" in a clear voice. When Ron sent the light back to the wall, he found that the words had vanished completely without a trace.  
  
"Wow, Hermione," he said, not bothering to hide his admiration of the fact that she had indeed known a way to make all those horrible things just disappear. "You really know your shit, don't you?"  
  
Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You're welcome," she said evenly. She couldn't help but notice the tightness her insides felt at the fact that Ron's big question had simply been about a charm he probably hadn't even bothered to research. But, then again, what else was she good for?  
  
"Thank you," he said promptly. He caught her eye, and she was surprised to see true sincerity. "Thank you a lot."  
  
Hermione couldn't help it; she gave him a small smile and shrugged her shoulders slightly. "Just don't ever show me if you write things like that about me behind my back, or I might seriously injure you." It was only half a joke.  
  
Ron managed to laugh, though. "I've never written anything bad about you," he said honestly. "And I swear that anything bad I've ever said about you has been straight to your face."  
  
Hermione knew that it wasn't a compliment or anything particularly encouraging, but it was something. And, coming from Ron and being so incredibly just... Ron... she couldn't help the small giggle that escaped her lips. "Thanks," she said briskly. "Nice to know you care."  
  
Ron laughed, too, looking quite relieved that she wasn't angry with him. Not that he expected her to be. If there was one thing he knew, it was Hermione Granger. He knew exactly how to make her yell out angrily at him, and he knew exactly how to make her smile.  
  
What could he say? It was a gift.  
  
"So," he said, changing the subject. "Do you want to go down to the lake for a bit, or do you need to go back and finish studying?"  
  
"Of course I need to go study," she said without hesitation. "This is one of the most important years of our lives, and I'm not going to waste any time that I could spend studying for the O.W.L.s. You haven't forgotten them have you?"  
  
"How could I forget?" Ron asked, groaning. "You remind me every ten bloody seconds!"  
  
"You know I don't like that word," she said quickly. "And anyway, if I didn't remind you, you'd never get around to studying, now would you?"  
  
Ron looked her square in the eye. "Well, in case you haven't noticed, I haven't yet gotten around to studying even with you hovering over me. And, for your information, I don't plan to anytime soon. This is just the first day of November, and you're worrying about something that won't even take place until the end of June!"  
  
It was one of their old arguments, and Hermione couldn't help but feel comforted by the comfortableness of it. "It's never too early to start studying. And you're going to wish you'd taken my advice when it comes June, and you don't know anything at all that you're supposed to. Because, trust me, there will be no questions about how many points Puddlemere scored in the 1942 Quidditch League Cup."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes but couldn't resist coming back with, "Shows how much you know. Puddlemere wasn't even in the League Cup in 1942. It was the Holyhead Harpies and the Ballycastle Bats. And the Bats won 190-40. The game lasted for nineteen hours, and it was one of the longest matches ever recorded for the English/Ireland Cup."  
  
Hermione just stared at him for a long, long, long moment. She didn't know how to respond until she surprised herself and laughed. She laughed out loud for another very long moment. Ron looked at her as if she'd lost her mind, and when she saw this, she hurried to clarify the reason behind her humor.  
  
"I don't know how in the world you manage to remember petty details like that but you can't remember the ingredients to a simple sleeping potion!"  
  
Ron looked scandalized. "Petty?! Hermione, there is nothing petty about Quidditch! And if you're so concerned about a sleeping potion, perhaps you'd better brew one up for yourself. You're starting to get dark bags right around the eyes." He was being quite serious in his attempt to insult her, but she, to his great chagrin, did nothing but laugh.  
  
"Oh, am I?" she asked between giggles.  
  
"Yes," he said adamantly. "And, just so you know, it's not very becoming of you."  
  
Hermione bit down on her lower lip and tried not to laugh, but she couldn't help it. The fact that he was so desperate to be rude to her simply because she'd called a stupid Quidditch match petty was hilarious all in its own. The fact that he was doing a very poor job of it was even funnier.  
  
"Ron, I will never understand you."  
  
He looked triumphant. "Good. At least that's mutual because, trust me, I have never, do not now, nor will I ever understand you, Hermione."  
  
Hermione nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now that we've got that out of the way, shall we head for the lake?"  
  
Ron looked genuinely surprised. "What? I thought you wanted to study."  
  
She sighed. "Yes, but your ignorance has persuaded me otherwise."  
  
Ron smiled. "Well, good. You need a..." He trailed off as he realized what she said, and his smirk turned to a rather cool and stern look.  
  
Hermione laughed and rolled her eyes. "Come on, you. Help me get back up."  
  
"And if I don't?" Ron questioned seriously. "What if my ignorance is not capable?"  
  
Hermione snorted. "Oh, shut up and help me."  
  
Ron rolled his own eyes and quite begrudgingly clasped his hands in a position for her to place a foot. Hermione looked up at the door, which was quite a bit above her head, and placed her hands on Ron's shoulder to steady herself as she placed one foot into the cradle of his hands and stood up. She reached up and managed to get a grasp on the side of the trapdoor. With a great huff and using all the upper-body strength she could muster, she pulled herself upwards and crawled through the door. The light of the outside was now gone, too, as night had fallen. She pulled out her wand and said, "Lumos!" The world around her lit dimly, and she glanced down at herself. The jeans she was wearing were now quite dirty around the knees, and she cursed quietly to herself. Moments later she saw Ron easily pulling himself through the hole and standing up beside her.  
  
"Wow," he said quietly. "It got cold quick, didn't it?"  
  
"It's November, Ron," she said simply as she pulled her coat tighter around her. It was a Muggle coat that her mum had sent her the year before; it was quite a bit warmer than the Hogwarts cloak she was used to. Ron, too, had on a Muggle coat, though his was thinner and probably a lot less warm than hers.  
  
Ron shrugged at her response. "Oh, well. Race you to the lake?"  
  
Hermione just looked at him. "Race you to the lake?" she repeated carefully. "Oh, yes. That's fair..."  
  
Ron laughed. "Hey, if you're scared then just say no."  
  
Before he could continue with his taunting, Hermione shot off as quickly as she could in the direction of the lake. Her wand and the moon lit her path. She heard Ron take off behind her shouting, "You can't cheat!" loudly through the night air. Hermione laughed, but her momentary finding of humor ended when Ron passed her, easily gaining a very considerable lead. Hermione didn't slow down, though, and shortly afterwards, she met up with him at the edge of the lake.  
  
He was smirking at her as she struggled desperately to catch her breath. "Cheaters never win," he said scoldingly.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, yeah. Like it's fair that your legs are practically twice the length of mine."  
  
Ron shrugged. "Blame nature for that one, 'Mione."  
  
Hermione glared at him.  
  
"Anyway," he continued, "you run faster than most girls."  
  
Hermione snorted as she dropped to the ground and looked out at the dark lake. "Most girls don't spend half their lives running away from three- headed dogs and mountain trolls."  
  
Ron laughed slightly as he sat beside her. "You don't run faster than Ginny, though."  
  
"Well," Hermione continued without hesitation, "most girls don't spend their entire lives running away from six older brothers."  
  
Now it was Ron's turn to snort. "Oh, right," he said sarcastically. "Like Ginny ever had to run away from us."  
  
Hermione turned to him and wrinkled her forehead. "Don't tell me that none of you ever picked on Ginny."  
  
Ron grimaced. "Oh, we tried, but it never worked. If Bill or Charlie or Percy ever got really mad or annoyed at her, all she had to do was just barely get her lower lip to tremble or her eyes to just get a single tear in them, and they'd all be fawning over her faster than they could say their own names." He rolled his eyes. "She's always been very good at making herself cry."  
  
Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the easily pictured image. She'd always suspected that Ginny had her oldest brothers wrapped around her little finger. She knew different, though, of the others. "Well, what about you and the twins?"  
  
"We knew better," he said simply. "We could see right through her fake tears, and she knew it. She didn't even try it on us."  
  
"So, what did she do?"  
  
Ron sighed and shook his head, obviously from the memory of a younger Ginny. "All she had to do was say the first syllable of the word 'Momma' and we'd be getting beat upside the head with a frying pan."  
  
Hermione tried very hard not to laugh, but the picture was so easily imagined that it was impossible. "But I thought you and Ginny were close when you were younger."  
  
Ron shrugged. "We were, I guess. I mean, what other choice did we have? Bill and Charlie were always too old to be bothered with us, and Percy was always too old, too- even before he really wasn't." Hermione understood what he meant. "And Fred and George... Ha!"  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"  
  
Ron sighed again. "Fred and George never let me tagalong with them unless they needed a scapegoat or a diversion. And, of course, I was the obvious choice. And then, of course, I'd be the one to get caught."  
  
"And you did it anyway?"  
  
"Of course I did!" Ron said without hesitation.  
  
"Why?" Hermione furrowed her brow. "Because they were your older brothers?"  
  
"Yeah," Ron said fleetingly. "And because they were bigger."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"Well, it was always either do what they told me to do or get beat up."  
  
"But didn't you get in trouble?"  
  
Ron nodded. "Yeah, but Fred and George hit me a lot harder than Mum ever did." Hermione struggled hopelessly not to snicker. "And there were two of them."  
  
"What's that got to do with anything?"  
  
"Trust me," he said seriously. "Two sets of fists hurt way worse than a broom handle."  
  
Hermione put her hands to her mouth and convulsed with silent giggles. She simply couldn't help it.  
  
Ron looked offended. "Oh, laugh it up at my childhood abuse, Hermione," he said briskly. "I'm sure that you never did anything at all to get in trouble when you were younger, did you?"  
  
"Of course I did," Hermione said, battling down the last of the giggles.  
  
"What?" Ron asked mockingly. "Go to bed without brushing your teeth?"  
  
Hermione narrowed her eyes and glared at him. Sarcastically, she said, "Oh, how hilarious. Remind me to laugh in ten minutes."  
  
Ron started right then, though. He laughed loudly at the expression on her face, and she couldn't help it. She did, too.  
  
These were the moments that she revered in her mind. The moments when she felt completely safe and completely worriless and completely content. And, strangely enough, every time she could remember feeling like this had been in Ron's company.  
  
"Your eyes look really cool." His statement brought her brows together in confusion.  
  
"Huh?" she asked, genuinely confused.  
  
Ron looked a little uncomfortable but not as much as he would have a month ago if he'd said something like that to her. "I don't know. They just look really cool right now. Maybe it's the water and the moon... I don't know. They just do."  
  
Hermione was surprised to find that she didn't feel embarrassed at all by his comment. Instead, she felt strangely flattered. "Thanks."  
  
Ron shrugged. He obviously felt the need to change the subject before he started dropping any other sappy compliments. "So, I missed dinner. Was it good?"  
  
Hermione couldn't hide the smile covering her lips.  
  
Ron and food... A duo you couldn't go wrong with.  
  
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I know it's a bit of a strange ending point, but it will have to do. No, the next part won't pick up directly from here. It will be a different day with new and exciting ventures...  
  
And PS- Sorry to everyone who thought they were finally going to get a confession or a kiss... Haha, I'm evil, aren't I?  
  
Please review!!!!! 


	28. It's Just a Game

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter- even those who called me evilevilevilevilevilevilevil... I love you all!!!!  
  
I know that I said the Quidditch match was supposed to take place the second weekend of October, but I changed it for the second weekend of November. Sorry bout that. And also, I don't care to go and look up the ages of the Slytherin Quidditch players, so we will just assume that Warrington, Flint, Montague, Derrick, and Bole are still in school and playing, okay?  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own them still!  
  
*************************************************  
  
Hermione sat in the Gryffindor stands of the Quidditch Pitch with her hands clasped in her lap and trying very hard not to be nervous. She always got like this before games, simply because she was partly excited and partly scared to death that a misplaced Bludger would knock Harry unconscious for a few months. And now she had to deal with the same fear for Ron.  
  
This was simply wonderful...  
  
It was the first Quidditch match of the season for Gryffindor, and, as such, it was also the first match she'd ever attended without Ron by her side. Well, the Ravenclaw match of her Third Year did not count because she truly, truly did not like to remember that evening at all.  
  
It felt strange to be sitting in the stands without him and even stranger knowing that he was about to play in his first ever House match. And, of course, it had to be against Slytherin.  
  
That in itself made her even more anxious.  
  
She didn't trust any member of the Slytherin team any further than she could throw them, and that definitely was not very much. She had a horrible feeling that things would be even worse this year, now that probably half of that house had reason to want Harry dead or at least knocked out cold for a decent amount of time. Her fears were not calmed by the meeting they'd had with Draco Malfoy the day before.  
  
It was after Potions, and, as it was Friday and the last class of the day, most of the students were racing up the stairs away from the dungeon as quickly as their feet would carry them. Harry and Ron had been in just as big of a hurry and had finally given up waiting around on her to properly pack away her ingredients (which they and most of the class had done themselves ten minutes before Snape actually dismissed them), and they had each grabbed some of her supplies and taken off with them. Hermione had tried to protest, but they were already out the door; she grabbed her bag and followed them quickly, noticing at once that they were stopped on the stairs face to face with none other than Malfoy and, of course, Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
She joined them just in time to hear Malfoy say, "Best friends again, are we? How extremely touching."  
  
"Shut up, Malfoy." It was Harry who had spoken, and he looked as if he definitely wasn't in the mood for anything having to do with Malfoy.  
  
But the blonde-haired Slytherin didn't seem to care what Harry was in the mood for. He simply smirked and said, "Well, it's a good thing, really. Wouldn't want some little squabble between the two of you to affect the Gryffindor Quidditch team, now would we?"  
  
No one had said anything. Ron and Harry were watching Malfoy curiously, Hermione was watching Ron and Harry anxiously, and Crabbe and Goyle were merely existing as they always did.  
  
Malfoy, though, went right on. "Excited about your first match, Weasley?" He obviously knew better than to expect an answer because he went right on. "I heard about the Firebolt. How'd you manage that one? Did you rob Gringotts?" Crabbe and Goyle snickered stupidly. "Or was it the consolation offering of your little fight with Potter?"  
  
Ron turned red, and Harry opened his mouth to say something. Hermione, though, found herself speaking first.  
  
"Oh, this is getting so old," she spoke up disgustedly. Five heads turned in her, until then, unnoticed direction. "Why don't you grow up already, Malfoy?"  
  
Malfoy met her with the same look of dislike that he'd reserved for her for the past five years. She was glad to know that the look was undoubtedly mirrored on her own face. "Why don't you shut up already, Granger?"  
  
"Why don't you make me?" She surprised herself by falling prey to his childish bait, but it wasn't the first time she'd found herself in the situation, and she was more than willing to bet that it certainly wouldn't be the last time, either. Her question was a challenge that earned her a swift smirk for the Slytherin.  
  
He stepped down onto the step where she was and looked at her. He wasn't much taller than Harry, but she was still short enough to where he had to look down at her. However, she wasn't intimidated by him in the least, and she showed this by keeping direct eye-contact with him. His voice was quieter, and Hermione thought that perhaps he was trying to speak in a tone no one else could hear; he did, after all, have his back turned on the other four boys above them. "Trust me," he hissed, that smirk still on his pointed little face, "if I could shut you up without getting expelled, I would. I'd smack that smug look off your face so fast you wouldn't even know what hit you. Then maybe you'd learn where your place was and learn how to keep it. You little bitch."  
  
Hermione was quite shocked. He had never really physically threatened her before, and, needless to say, she was knocked a bit off by it. She, for once, didn't have a comeback.  
  
However, if Malfoy had been assuming that no one else would hear his statements, he had miscalculated. Before she could even register what was happening, Hermione found herself being yanked up onto the same step as Harry and Ron. She found that each of them had a grasp on opposite arms, and she felt Harry drop his as soon as she was tucked safely between them. Ron, though, tightened his grip and pulled her closer to him. Hermione was about to yank free and hex Malfoy, but Harry beat her to it.  
  
He stepped down onto the lower step and literally shoved Malfoy backwards against the banister. It was shocking, to say the least, as Harry had never really ever tried to fight with Malfoy physically. He looked simply furious, though, and Hermione couldn't help but feel flattered and comforted that he was protecting her. It was a nice gesture of friendship, and while Ron did the same thing on a daily basis, the gestures somehow meant two completely different things.  
  
"Don't you ever, ever threaten her again," Harry said warningly. "Do you understand me?"  
  
Crabbe and Goyle both made what appeared to be movements to pummel Harry, but they stopped when Malfoy spoke back calmly, not appearing at all to be intimidated. "It doesn't matter if I threaten her, Potter," he said coolly. "She's going to end up the same way no matter what. Trust me."  
  
Hermione was just about as far from stupid as it was possible to be, and she understood Malfoy's statement clearly. He hadn't had to come right out and say the words because everyone present knew exactly what he was talking about.  
  
"Of course," Malfoy went on before anyone else could respond, "it will certainly be a good thing. One less Mudblood in the world is always a plus- especially one as annoying as that bitch."  
  
Ron made a movement to join Harry, but Hermione grabbed his arm before he could even take a step. Their eyes met, and she simply shook her head; he saw this and reluctantly stopped as they waited for Harry's response.  
  
It was simple and clear. "If I ever hear you say anything like that again, I'll make sure you're not able to see straight for the rest of your life."  
  
Malfoy snickered. "I'm only telling the truth, you know. Granger is very high on a very important list. And I don't mean class rankings. On this list, there are actually a couple of people higher than her- must be a shock."  
  
None of them were stupid.  
  
Hermione could feel the blood racing to her ears as her anger intensified. Ron looked as if he actually wanted to hurt Malfoy- and hurt much worse than a bloody nose. Harry, though, was strangely calm.  
  
"Oh, where did you see this list, Malfoy?" he questioned calmly. "At the Junior Death Eaters Convention?"  
  
"Wouldn't you like to know, Potter?"  
  
At that moment, the doors to the dungeon opened again, and Seamus and Dean came out, having been held over by Snape for a few minutes. They stopped when they surveyed the scene.  
  
"What's going on?" Seamus asked curiously, eyeing Harry who still had a tight grip on the collar of Malfoy's school robes.  
  
Malfoy turned his head in the direction and rolled his eyes. "Aren't you a Prefect, Thomas? Potter is quite obviously threatening me."  
  
Dean just looked at Malfoy with slightly raised eyebrows. Then he turned to his roommate. "Harry, man, Snape is coming."  
  
Harry nodded understandingly, but he didn't let go of Malfoy until he got one last word in. "I'm warning you, Malfoy. Stay the hell away from her."  
  
With that, he released the Slytherin roughly and proceeded up the stairs with Ron, Hermione, Seamus, and Dean.  
  
And now, as Hermione sat anxiously awaiting the start of the match, she couldn't help but glance over at the Slytherin side of the stadium and wonder how many of them actually held the same views as Malfoy. How many of them hated her as much as he did. And how many of them shared the same opinion that one less Mudblood is always a plus.  
  
"Nervous?"  
  
Hermione looked up to see Ginny Weasley sliding into the empty chair beside her. Ginny was bundled up tightly in her cloak and scarf, and her pale cheeks were colored with the pinkness that only biting cold can bring. She didn't appear to mind, though, as she was almost bouncing with excitement.  
  
Hermione smiled in lieu of a response and nodded slightly. "Yeah, a bit. I always am, though."  
  
Ginny grinned. "I know you are. You shouldn't be, though; they're perfectly safe."  
  
"How do you define safe, Ginny?" Hermione asked, mildly sarcastically. "Random heavy objects shooting through the air with the intent to bodily injure people who happen to be a hundred feet above solid ground?"  
  
This earned a laugh from the redhead. "It's fun, though."  
  
"You like playing?"  
  
"Of course," Ginny rolled her eyes. "Don't forget that I grew up with six older brothers."  
  
Hermione couldn't help but giggle. "Oh, yeah. I heard all about the other day."  
  
Ginny raised an eyebrow. "What has that prat been telling you?"  
  
Another giggle. "Nothing."  
  
Ginny didn't look convinced. "Tell me."  
  
"He was just telling me how you managed to get yourself out of trouble and everyone else into trouble all in one sweep."  
  
Ginny didn't look very amused. "And just how did I do this?"  
  
Hermione tried not to laugh. "He just said you were very good at making yourself cry."  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, did he? I don't suppose he told you who taught me how to do that, did he?"  
  
So, now she was getting the whole story. Slightly amused, Hermione raised both brows. "What?"  
  
Ginny nodded, satisfied. "That's right. He used to make himself cry all the bloody time. I learned from the master."  
  
Hermione laughed right out, momentarily forgetting her anxiousness. "He told me this whole big sob-story about how the twins used to make him do all sorts of things and get him into trouble. And how if he didn't do what they said, they'd beat him up."  
  
"That's an exaggeration of the truth," Ginny explained simply. "The twins did used to use him as a distraction and all that, but they'd beat him up either way- if he did it or if he didn't do it. It didn't matter. But he always did it, of course, because they were Fred and George, and he always wanted to tagalong with them no matter what the reason. He had some huge complex when he were little about me being his only playmate," she waved her hand dismissively. "Anyway, Ron's full of shit if he said I'm the only one who ever pulled the fake tears bit."  
  
Hermione laughed again, finding much humor in the situation.  
  
Ginny went on, though, and said, "Next time he tells you some story about our childhood, come ask me, and I'll tell you how much of it is true. He's always liked to expand the truth." She smirked slightly. "His 'vivid imagination,' as my grandmum, who, mind you, never liked to think that her youngest grandson could do anything wrong at all, so liked to call it is what really kept getting him into trouble while we were growing up. It wasn't me or the twins."  
  
At that moment, though, their conversation was cut short by the booming sound of Lee Jordan's voice magnified to float throughout the entire stadium.  
  
"Welcome, Hogwarts students, staff, ghosts, etcetera, etcetera! This afternoon we have Gryffindor versus Slytherin!"  
  
Yells and cheers filled the stands from all over. Hermione felt the anxious excitement she was familiar with start to fill her body as she stood up with the rest of the Gryffindors as their house team took to the field.  
  
"Gryffindor takes the field first, led this year by new captain, Miss Alicia Spinnet!" Lee cheered right into the microphone. "The lovely Miss Spinnet is backed this year by fellow Chasers Katie Bell and newcomer Josh Brenner! I think it's fair to say that Brenner is definitely the envy of every normal male here- getting to work with those two young and beautiful women!"  
  
Loud whoops were heard from all of those normal males. Hermione and Ginny rolled their eyes at each other unenthusiastically.  
  
"Also on the Gryffindor team, we have another newcomer- Ron Weasley as Keeper!" Hermione caught Ginny's eye and grinned as they cheered loudly together.  
  
"And don't forget the other Weasleys," Lee continued quickly. "As Beaters, we have Fred and George!" There was more excited applause, this based mainly on the fact that Fred and George made it a point to flirt with each and every girl in Hogwarts that could be considered of decent age.  
  
Lee finished his introductions with, "And, of course, as seeker, we have Harry Potter!" Hermione cheered loudly again as she watched Harry and the rest of the team circle the stands. As nervous as she was to see Ron and Harry and the rest of them flying so fast and so high above the ground, she couldn't help the burst of excitement that shot through her.  
  
At this point, seven figures robed in dark green shot into the center of the stadium from the opposite entrance. All around her, Hermione heard people start to hiss and boo, and she heard the Slytherin side of the Pitch go crazy with excitement.  
  
Lee's voice once again filled the stands. "And here comes the Slytherin team. Pity we don't have enough time to name them all separately." He didn't sound too sorry at all. Hermione giggled as she heard Professor McGonagall's muffled voice briskly reprimanding him. He seemed to ignore her, though, and went right on with his commentary. "Both teams take the field as Madam Hooch prepares to release the balls. Ah! There go the Bludgers... And the Quaffle... Followed closely by the Golden Snitch! And they're off!"  
  
Fourteen figures immediately leapt into action. Hermione jumped to her feet with everyone else as Katie caught the Quaffle and took off quickly with it.  
  
"Gryffindor gets the Quaffle first! Bell in possession... And YES! She scores within the first ten seconds of the match! The new Slytherin Keeper doesn't seem to be too good at all... Sorry, sorry," he mumbled as he glanced sideways at the Transfiguration teacher. "Gryffindor in the lead, Ten-Zero!"  
  
The Slytherin Keeper, a Sixth Year named Brendon Carlingward, glared in Lee's direction as he retrieved the Quaffle and hurled it to the closest Slytherin Chaser.  
  
"Slytherin now in possession with Warrington now holding the Quaffle."  
  
Hermione held her breath as Warrington zoomed toward the goal posts that Ron was guarding. She could see on Ron's face that he was equally as nervous as he watched the approaching Chaser.  
  
"Warrington within shooting distance... And he misses! Ron Weasley blocks the shot and passes the Quaffle back to Bell!" Hermione literally whooped with excitement before biting down so hard on her lower lip that she was expecting blood to flow.  
  
Katie shot upwards with the Quaffle, narrowly escaping a Bludger hurled at her by Slytherin Beater, William Derrick. As soon as she was out of the Bludger's way, she tossed the ball downward to Josh who caught it easily and took off toward the goal posts on the other end of the Pitch.  
  
"Brenner in possession... This boy can fly! He lines up the shot... WATCH THAT BLUDGER!" Josh jerked backwards, saving himself from being knocked off his broom, and then he threw the Quaffle with all his might. "DAMN! He misses, and the shot is blocked by that dumb ba..." Professor McGonagall leapt to her feet and lunged for the microphone, but Lee ducked out of her way, apologizing profusely.  
  
"Slytherin back in possession with Flint holding."  
  
Marcus Flint, Slytherin Seventh Year and team captain, looked out for the kill as he raced pointedly toward the goal posts, ducking out of the way of a Bludger sent his way by Fred. He zoomed back and forth in front of the goals for several seconds before finally taking a surprise shot and aiming it at the lowest goal. Ron shot downwards and, miraculously, catching the Quaffle just in time. The impact knocked him backwards a bit, but he held onto the Quaffle and didn't let it pass.  
  
"YES!" Cheers filled the stadium from three sections of the stands. The Slytherins booed as Lee said, "Weasley blocks and successfully passes the Quaffle back to the lovely and beautiful Miss Spinnet. Make sure you win this, Alicia! Remember when Warrington dumped you after the Yule Ball last year?! Payback is a bi..." He was cut off abruptly, and Ginny and Hermione giggled with each other.  
  
Alicia took off with the Quaffle, temporarily passing it to Katie as Warrington and the other Slytherin Chaser, Kyle Montague, closed in on either side of her and tried to distract her. Once they realized that she no longer had the Quaffle, though, they turned their attentions to Katie who deftly tossed it back to Alicia.  
  
"WATCH OUT!" Lee's sudden outburst drew everyone's attention to Derrick who was aiming a Bludger directly at Ron's head, despite the fact that the action of the game was taking place on the other side of the field. Hermione screamed loudly as the black ball hurled heavily toward Ron, completely forgetting that Alicia was on the brink of scoring. She saw Ron, frozen in horror, stare at the oncoming Bludger without moving. Just as the Bludger closed in on its target, though, George shot upwards, knocking his little brother out of the way and batting the Bludger straight back at Derrick. It knocked into the Slytherin full-force and immediately bloodied his nose. George smirked triumphantly.  
  
A whistle blew from down below, and Madam Hooch rushed out onto the field. "Penalty shot to Gryffindor for harmful intent on their Keeper when the Quaffle was not within shooting distance!"  
  
Hermione let out the breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding and looked sideways at Ginny, who appeared, not frightened, but strangely amused. She looked over when she sensed Hermione's gaze and rolled her eyes. "Like George has never aimed a Bludger at Ron's head before..."  
  
Hermione laughed nervously, tension taking the place of the excitement. She resolved to the fact that she was going to have gray hair by the time she was twenty.  
  
*****************************************************************  
  
Up on the field, Harry was keeping a close lookout for the Snitch. The match had been going on for a little over an hour, and the score was currently Gryffindor- Sixty, Slytherin- Thirty. So far, he had been aware of thirteen Bludgers aimed in his direction, and he was still counting. Of course, Fred and George watched over him well enough, and none of them had succeeded in hitting their target. That wasn't to say that Josh Brenner hadn't taken his fair share of hits; the twins seemed much more intent on protecting Ron and Harry and, of course, Katie and Alicia. Poor Josh had been left to take the brunt of the hits. None of them had done any damage too serious, though, and Josh was still shaping up to be a pretty good Chaser. Ron, too, was turning out to be quite good.  
  
Alicia had done well with their training.  
  
But the game was wearing on, and everyone was starting to tire a little. The cold November air was starting to turn even cooler, and the wind was starting to take on a biting chill that It hadn't had when the match started. It was just as Harry started to notice all of this that he caught his first glimpse of the Snitch. It was fluttering close to the Slytherin Keeper, who had obviously spotted it as well, as he was doing a very obvious job of alerting Malfoy to its whereabouts. Harry instantly looked down at the blonde-headed Seeker and saw that Malfoy was paying no attention to Carlingward's wild motions; he was combing the lower area of the field.  
  
Without hesitating another second, he took off as quickly as his broom would take him.  
  
"Potter is off like a lightning bolt!" Lee snickered at his own stupid reference. Harry barely heard him, but it was obvious that Malfoy had because Harry caught sight of a green-clad figure with white-blonde hair shooting upwards and in the same direction as Harry was headed.  
  
Going as quickly as he could, Harry stayed focused with his eye on the Snitch and flew with only one single intent- to get the Snitch and win. Malfoy, though, seemed to have the same intent, and the next thing Harry registered was another broom slamming into his.  
  
"Get off, Malfoy!" he hissed, trying desperately to stay focused on the Snitch, which seemed to be getting further away instead of closer. In lieu of a response, Malfoy jerked his broom sharply to the right forcefully and succeeded in not only knocking Harry off-course but also making Harry lose sight of the Snitch. Fortunately, the latter effect was also inflicted upon Malfoy himself.  
  
"Damn it!" Harry cursed loudly, glaring at Malfoy, who simply smirked and shrugged in return. It was personal now, and Harry momentarily forgot about the task at hand. With all of the might he could muster, he jerked his own broom to the side and knocked roughly into Malfoy.  
  
Malfoy was knocked off-guard for a moment, but then he looked back up at Harry with a strangely innocent look on his face. "Don't take things so seriously, Potter," he said calmly. "It's just a game." On the word 'game,' he used all of his weight to slam into Harry and knock him backwards and perilously close to the end of his broom. The two of them continued to scuffle like this until a loud whistle was blown and jerked their attention; neither of them was paying any attention to anything else up until that point- including the game or Lee's "play-by-play" commentary of their small scuffle.  
  
"Penalty shots for both teams!" Madam Hooch shouted into the air, halting everything. "For intentional deformation of their Seekers by the opposing Seeker!"  
  
Harry and Malfoy glared at each other but smartly stopped their small brawl. Flint took the shot for Slytherin first, and Ron blocked it easily. Alicia took the shot for Gryffindor, but it, too, was blocked. And then the game resolved.  
  
Harry kept his eyes peeled for any sign of the Snitch for the next fifteen minutes. During this small course of time, Gryffindor scored once and Slytherin scored once, bringing the score to Gryffindor- Seventy, Slytherin- Forty. During this time, Josh was forced to take another Bludger to the stomach and came dangerously close to being knocked clear off the handle of the broom. Harry took notice of four more Bludgers aimed in his direction by Derrick and Bole, but none of them succeeded in hitting him. Likewise, Fred and George aimed a mentionable amount of the Bludgers at Malfoy, but he was always saved last minute by the Slytherin Beaters. Harry figured this was a pity, as he was positive that a Bludger to the face would flatten out the pointiness of Malfoy's chin and nose and do a considerable favor for the Slytherin.  
  
It was at this time, though, that Harry caught his second glimpse of the Snitch. It was floating toward the lower level of the field directly in the middle. This was ironic, though, as Harry was hovering high on the left side and Malfoy was doing the same on the right side. Harry glanced at his opponent quickly and saw Malfoy's eyes glint as he, too, apparently spotted the Snitch. He lifted his eyes to Harry, and they held each other's gaze for a full second before each taking off at incredible speed toward the center of the field.  
  
Harry tried to clear his mind completely as he shot out and downward; it was curious, really, how he was able to block out the cheers of the crowd and the commentary and even his own teammates cheering him on. He concentrated on nothing except getting to the Snitch and wrapping his fingers around it. He was dimly aware of Malfoy closing in on him, and he was pretty sure he heard Lee shouting that they were going to crash into each other. They didn't, though; when they mere millimeters from each other, they both turned their brooms straight down and went after the tiny flying object. They were so concerned with this task that they didn't even bother trying to knock the other off their broom; it was simply get to the Snitch of die trying. The ground came closer and closer into view and, with it, the Snitch seemed more and more like a reality. Just as they were probably four feet from the ground, though, the Snitch took off to the right.  
  
Harry's first thought was to turn his broom to the right and go after it, but, as Malfoy was currently on his right, he had a bit of trouble. Malfoy smirked slightly at him before pulling out of the Feint and purposely shoving the backend of his broom into Harry's face and blocking his view. Harry was so distracted that he forgot to pull out of the Feint himself until he felt the tip of his broom hit the ground. He immediately jerked it upwards with such a force that he turned a full flip in the air before finally setting back straight. Luckily, he managed to hang on for the duration of this; unluckily, this small lapse in concentration had given Malfoy a very profitable gaining on the Snitch.  
  
He was dimly aware of Lee Jordan yelling loudly about Malfoy's earlier tactics. "YOU LYING, CHEATING, UGLY LITTLE PIECE OF SH..." It was at this moment that Lee lost microphone privileges for the rest of the match. Harry paid this no mind, though, as he shot upwards as quickly as possible and followed Malfoy after the Snitch.  
  
He couldn't see the small golden ball, though, so he simply did his best to get as close as possible to Malfoy. This was difficult, though, as there was already a good amount of distance between them. From the corner of his eye, he saw Warrington line up a shot against Ron and shoot the Quaffle, taking advantage of everyone's attention being on the two Seekers. However, Ron caught it miraculously. Malfoy shot in that direction, and Harry followed closely; it was at this moment that he spotted the Snitch. It was mere inches from Malfoy's grasp, and he realized that he had no hope at all of beating him. He was going to lose.  
  
To Slytherin.  
  
To Malfoy.  
  
But then something wonderful happened. Ron, who was still in possession of the Quaffle, as there was no one around to toss it to, simply threw it into the air and shot upwards after it. With all of his might, he spun around on his Firebolt and whacked the Quaffle with the tail-end of his broom. To everyone's surprise, the Quaffle, now as a makeshift Bludger, sailed straight at Malfoy and hit in directly in the stomach, knocking him back with such force that Harry was easily able to dart past him, and, in the next three seconds, Harry felt his fingers close around the fluttering object.  
  
He had won.  
  
They had won.  
  
It was the most wonderful feeling in the world!  
  
As if his hearing suddenly came back, he was aware of the cheers filling the stadium as Lee somehow got the microphone back and announced the outcome.  
  
"GRYFFINDOR WINS!!! TWO-HUNDRED AND FORTY to FORTY!!!"  
  
Harry turned his broom down and went to land, catching a glimpse of an even paler than usual Malfoy who was clutching his broom in a desperate attempt not to lose consciousness and fall off. Harry simply laughed.  
  
Moments later, he was on the ground where Fred, George, and Josh had already landed. They all met him with loud whoops and hard cuffs on the shoulders. Alicia and Katie met them next, each running up and kissing him on opposite cheeks before being swept away by the twins in tight embraces. Alicia seemed overly-elated at winning her first match as captain, and tears were streaming down her face. Harry wondered, though, if this was, in fact, a bittersweet victory against her Yule Ball date from the previous year. He'd never understood why she went with Warrington in the first place...  
  
Harry looked up and saw Ron zooming toward the field. About three feet above the ground, though, he jumped off the broom, abandoning it, and took off full-speed on feet. He met Harry with a wide grin, spreading from ear to ear.  
  
"We did it!!!" he shouted loudly. "We won!!!"  
  
"Yes!" Harry yelled, equally as thrilled.  
  
They threw their arms around each other in a victory hug and were both literally jumping with joy when they heard Hermione's voice calling loudly to them.  
  
"Ron! Harry!" She let out some sort of joyful shriek before catching up with them and literally throwing herself into the middle of their embrace. Her added weight sent them all tumbling into a laughing heap on the ground. None of them bothered getting up as they half-lay, half-sat entangled in each other, laughing and soaring with excitement.  
  
"That was so wicked!" Hermione exclaimed enthusiastically. "You should have seen Malfoy when the Quaffle hit him like that! It was BRILLIANT!!!"  
  
They all turned their heads to see Malfoy finally on the ground, looking quite queasy and glaring at them murderously. They snickered loudly as he made his way over to them and stared down at them.  
  
"That wasn't fair, and you know it," he said bitingly.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Oh, get over it, Malfoy. Stop being such a sore loser."  
  
Malfoy sneered, a slight pout protruding on his lips. "Shut up, you piece of Mudblood filth."  
  
Ron made a movement to go after him, but Malfoy was already walking away. Hermione, though, disentangled herself from the boys long enough to crawl behind them and retrieve Harry's broom, which she promptly proceeded to push into Malfoy's way, making him trip over it and stumble to the ground.  
  
Hermione immediately dropped the broom and turned her back, doing her best to look as innocent as possible. Of course, Malfoy already knew that one of them did it, and the fact that Ron and Harry were both nearly guffawing with laughter as Hermione literally twiddled her thumbs basically gave the whole thing away. No one cared, though.  
  
Except for Malfoy.  
  
He got up and dusted himself off angrily before rounding on them again. "You'd all better watch your backs," he threatened seriously.  
  
Hermione looked up at him with a wide and innocent smile. "Is something wrong?" she questioned calmly.  
  
Harry laughed. "Yeah. Don't take things so seriously, Malfoy. After all, it's just a game."  
  
Malfoy glared one last time at them before stalking off in a huff. When he was gone, the three of them burst into simultaneous laughter. They didn't bother to get up for a long, long time as they sat and enjoyed the moment.  
  
And, as he sat there in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch with his two best friends in the world, Harry reflected that he'd been wrong earlier. Catching the Snitch and beating Slytherin wasn't the most wonderful feeling in the world.  
  
This was.  
  
***************************************  
  
Awe... Now wasn't that sweet? Haha, sorry, I'm in a "sappy-friendship-is- the-most-important-thing-in-the-world" mood right now, so you'll have to excuse me.  
  
As always, reviews are GREATLY appreciated!!! 


	29. Rita Skeeter's Article

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. I had trouble writing it because I've never much been a fan of Quidditch. However, you guys seemed to enjoy it, so thanks!!! To the person who said that Angelina was in the same year as Fred and George- There's nothing (trust me, I have searched time and time again) in the books that say what year Angelina is in- just her age, which could place her in either year (Fred and George's or the year above them). And as far as Marcus Flint, I said at the top that I didn't bother looking up any of the Slytherins' ages b/c, frankly, I don't really care too much. (  
  
Disclaimer: Still not mine!  
  
**********************************  
  
The first weekend of December brought a Hogsmeade trip. Everyone was looking forward to it very much, as the teachers had all been piling on extra work in an attempt to ready them for the O.W.L.s. A daytrip of any kind was a most welcome event.  
  
So, as Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way back up to the Tower to get their coats after breakfast, they were all talking excitedly about the things they were going to buy. Harry didn't notice the large group of Slytherins who were all crowded into one circle and laughing heartily. He didn't notice Draco Malfoy in the center of that group. And he didn't notice a magazine as being the cause of their amusement.  
  
What he did notice was his name being called by Pansy Parkinson.  
  
"Potter!" came the loud, annoying, high-pitched shriek. "Potter, come here!"  
  
Harry looked up to see her pug-like face grinning madly and waving him over to the crowd of Slytherins. He glanced briefly at Ron and Hermione who both looked back at him with raised eyebrows, each obviously just as confused as he was.  
  
He should have just walked right on by and ignored them. He knew enough not to trust that anything they had to show him was going to benefit him. But, of course, walking by would make him appear weak and even frightened, and he was definitely not scared of anything the Slytherins had to dish out. So, he rolled his eyes and marched over to the circle, Ron and Hermione close in tow.  
  
"What do you want?" he asked coolly, noticing Malfoy in the center holding the magazine open with a stupid smirk on his pointed face.  
  
Malfoy just continued to smile as he did his best innocent impression. "We were just reading something, Potter, and we were just curious to see if it was true." Malfoy held the magazine out in an offering, and after only a second's hesitation, Harry reached for it. When he turned it over, he was met with a large picture of himself and a rather long article. The headline read, "Harry Potter's Inner-Struggle."  
  
"Fifteen year old Harry Potter has seen his fair share of misery in his short life. Being orphaned as a baby after his home was attacked by He-Who- Must-Not-Be-Named, young Potter was sent to live with his only living relatives- his mother's Muggle sister and her husband. Potter spent the next ten years of his life cut off from the wizarding world, and it was not until his eleventh birthday that he was informed of his background and told the full story of what had happened to his young parents, James and Lily Potter.  
  
"Having grown up believing that his parents had met their demise in an automobile accident, we can all imagine the shock the poor boy felt when he was informed that his parents were really murdered in attempts to save him. It was the baby that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was after, but his parents sacrificed their own lives to save him. The baby was left unharmed, minus the lightning bolt shaped scar adorning his forehead. When Potter was told the true story of his parents' death, he was able to keep a stiff-upper lip and outwardly pretend as though he wasn't suffering a major guilt trip at being the cause of his own parents' death.  
  
"For four years, the public has watched as Potter has tried his best to make up for the deaths he was the cause of at such a young age. He has attempted to play the hero time and time again at his current place of residence, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. However, one has to realize that the poor young boy is simply putting on a front and trying to do something, anything to make the pain and guilt disappear.  
  
"Potter was doing a good job of keeping his front up until June of this year. As many of you will remember, Hogwarts was host to the Tri-Wizard Tournament last year and hosted contestants from both Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Young Potter somehow managed to become one of two champions for Hogwarts, despite the fact that his age of fourteen was nowhere close to the age limit of seventeen that was supposedly set into place. During the final event, Potter and his co-Hogwarts champion, seventeen year old Cedric Diggory were transported away from the school via portkey. Where they went or what happened while they were there are still topics to be explored. There are rumors, of course, that they were transported into the hold of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but confirmation of these rumors has yet to be found. The only thing we know for sure is that upon return to Hogwarts, Diggory was dead, having been killed somewhere along the journey that he took with Potter. If the rumors of falling into He-Who-Must-Not-Be- Named's traps are true, then we can all come to a natural assumption that Diggory was sacrificed for Potter in much the same manner that his own parents were. Whatever the case, though, it is obvious that Diggory met his demise while Potter once again escaped unscathed.  
  
"Being the cause of three people's deaths would be a lot for anyone to handle. Imagine what it must be like for a fifteen year old boy. It should be no surprise that Potter is currently suffering such shame that he has completely blocked himself emotionally from his schoolmates and professors, the exception being two Fifth Years with whom he bonded deeply with in his first year, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. Weasley is the son of Ministry worker Arthur Weasley, and he and Potter have been known to argue on several occasions, causing Potter's worst personal moments. Granger is the daughter of two Muggle dentists, and you will all remember the scandalous love affairs that she engaged in with both Potter and Bulgarian Quidditch star, Viktor Krum. Perhaps these two youngsters are too naive to realize what lies before them if they continue their close relationship with Potter. It is sad, of course, to think about, but the painful truth is that Weasley and Granger should think twice before befriending someone who has a history of causing the deaths of all who choose to get close to him.  
  
"For their own sake, we should hope that Weasley and Granger consider all the consequences of this friendship before it is too late..  
  
"Rita Skeeter, Daily Prophet Correspondent."  
  
Harry was staring at the article in shock; he could feel both Ron and Hermione reading it over his shoulder, but neither of them spoke, either. It wasn't until Malfoy pushed his way forward and spoke that any of them made any sort of movement.  
  
"Looks like you didn't do such a good job of keeping Rita Skeeter quiet, did you, Granger?" He was sneering evilly at the three of them.  
  
"This is bullshit," Ron said simply; he was completely outraged and was not about to stand around and let Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherins sneer at him.  
  
"Oh, is it?" Malfoy laughed. "I was definitely under the assumption that Potter's poor mum and dad were both quite dead. Not to mention poor Cedric, of course- pity that was." He feigned a look of concern.  
  
Hermione was absolutely livid, and she grabbed the magazine away from Harry forcefully. With a glare, she shoved the magazine into Malfoy's chest and addressed him directly. "How is it even possible for someone to be as cruel and heartless as you are, Malfoy?"  
  
With a sharp glare to match her own, Malfoy took the magazine away from her. "How is it even possible for someone to be as annoying and ugly as you are, Granger?"  
  
"You shut the hell up," Ron said furiously.  
  
"Oh, what's this?" Malfoy said with another slight smirk. "Trying to get in on the infamous Granger love-fest, are you, Weasley? Well, I'm sure that since Krum finally realized she was trash, there's probably an opening in her social life." The group of Slytherins found this quite hilarious. "Of course, you'll have to fight Potter for her, and that would surely prove to be a horrid argument that just might result in Potter's personal lowest ever."  
  
"Just shut up, Malfoy," Hermione said through clenched teeth. She glanced at Ron who had gone very red in the face, and then she turned her attention to Harry who was still silent.  
  
"What?" Malfoy said innocently. "I happen to think it would be one hell of a fight! I'd pay good money to see Weasley and Potter fight it out over Granger, wouldn't you guys?" He glanced around at the other Slytherins who all nodded enthusiastically. "Hey! There's an idea! Stage the fight and charge for the seats, Weasley! You might be able to buy your family some suitable living conditions."  
  
"Oh, that's funny," Hermione said sarcastically. She glanced around once again and saw that Ron was still very red in the face, and then she turned her attention back to Harry. He was uncharacteristically pale and staring very determinedly at the floor; it appeared as though he couldn't even hear the arguments going on around him.  
  
Malfoy followed her gaze and took in the sight of the distressed Harry with much glee. Speaking in a fake friendly tone, he said, "What's the matter, Potter? Surely you don't believe everything you read in the papers, do you? I mean, obviously you aren't upset at all about the deaths you've caused; don't let this Skeeter woman sway you to feel any differently."  
  
Harry didn't even look up.  
  
"If you don't fuck off right now, I'm going to beat the shit out of you." The threat was from Ron, and the horrid language didn't even merit a reprimanding from Hermione.  
  
Malfoy completely ignored him.  
  
"Do us all a favor, though, would you, Potter?" Malfoy smiled silkily at him, though Harry didn't look up. "Make sure you keep a close relationship with these two. The world will be a hell of a lot better with one less Mudblood and one less Muggle lover. Come to think of it, with your record, you might be able to rid the world of a ton of Muggle lovers. I'm sure those desolate Weasleys are the closest things you have to parents now that you've managed to kill your own, so don't hesitate in doing away with them as well."  
  
It was clear that this was clearly too much for Ron to handle, and he started to lunge furiously at the blonde boy in front of him. Hermione was quicker than him, though, and before anyone could stop her, she'd leapt in front of Ron and whipped out her wand which she was pointing dangerously close to Malfoy's chest. Several gasps filled the small hallway, and Malfoy himself was even looking at the wand with a hint of apprehension.  
  
Not about to let her realize that she was frightening him, though, he gave a fake little laugh and said, "What are you going to do, Granger? Hex me? That would look wonderful on your perfect little record."  
  
"My record's already imperfect," she said evenly. "Thanks to you, of course. And yes, I will hex you. I swear to God I will."  
  
Slytherins might have been pure evil scum, but they weren't stupid- save Crabbe and Goyle, of course. They were all smart enough to realize that a threatened hexing from Hermione Granger was something to take seriously. She didn't have the highest marks in the school for no reason, and she could probably do serious damage if she got the urge to use her wand against someone. Malfoy and his entire group took a step backward.  
  
"Fine, Granger," he said, never drifting from his silky smooth voice. "But you just better watch your back. That's all I have to say."  
  
Hermione glared at him. "I don't give a damn what you have to say."  
  
"Ooh," Malfoy feigned shock. "You should watch your language. It's very unladylike. But, then again, you've never been too much of a lady, anyway, now have you?"  
  
Hermione's eyes narrowed, and it was obvious that she was about to hold true to her promise. Ron, obviously frightened that she was about to get herself into trouble she couldn't get out of, grabbed her arm before she could get her words out, though.  
  
"Don't." He was speaking to Hermione, but he was shooting a burning glare at the Slytherin. "He's not worth the trouble."  
  
Malfoy cocked his head to the side and smiled. "How adorable," he said with an overly-sweetened tone. "What's the matter, Weasley? Don't want your little Mudblood girlfriend to get into trouble?"  
  
Ron went red, and Hermione had to fight down a blush as well. This didn't change the fact that Malfoy had just called her the most offensive thing he could think of, though. And while Hermione didn't really take too much offense to the remark because she hadn't grown up hearing it and also because it was Malfoy, who had no brain that she could see reason, anyway, Ron was furious.  
  
"Why don't you take your own little lapdog girlfriend and get the hell out of the way?" he shot back with a venomous look at Pansy Parkinson, who was standing by watching the whole exchange. She looked outraged at Ron's remarks, and her cheeks turned a deep crimson color.  
  
Malfoy glanced at her and then back at Ron. "Take that back, Weasley," he warned seriously.  
  
Ron looked as if he would sooner kiss Gregory Goyle. "Why should I? It's the truth. Of course, I don't see how you could possibly get anyone better than her anyway, seeing as it is you and you do sort of resemble a pile of dragon shit."  
  
Gasps filled the small hallway as Malfoy ripped his wand from the inside of his cloak and aimed it directly at Ron. It took only a second for Ron to do the same.  
  
Malfoy kept his eyes on the other boy and said, "Go ahead, Weasley. I dare you. I'd love to see you burp up slugs again or whatever the hell it was that happened the last time you tried to use your wand against me because of this little bitch." He swung his head in Hermione's direction but never took his eyes off of his opponent.  
  
Ron was still quite red, and it appeared that he was going to take Malfoy's dare, as he raised his wand and aimed it at the Slytherin's face.  
  
"Let's go."  
  
The words came from Harry, who had spoken for the first time since they'd read the article. His voice was low and barely audible. Ron and Hermione turned to look at him at the same time, Ron lowering his wand as he did so.  
  
Harry spoke again. "Let's just go, okay?" Without another word, his two best friends followed him away from the crowd, completely ignoring the echoing taunts of the Slytherins behind them. No one spoke until they had almost reached the portrait hole. Finally, Hermione broke the silence.  
  
"Harry, don't pay any attention to that article, okay? I can't believe Rita Skeeter is writing again, but you know she's full of nothing but lies. Anything for a story, right? It doesn't matter what."  
  
Harry nodded, but it was clear that he wasn't quite convinced. His face was sullen, and neither Ron nor Hermione knew exactly what to do or say. Ron tried his hand nonetheless, though.  
  
"Yeah, Harry. Hermione's right- Rita Skeeter is nothing but a crazy old cow with nothing better to do than barge in on people's private lives. She's full of shit and so is that article."  
  
Harry nodded again, and Hermione tried to change the subject. "Let's get our coats, shall we? The shops will be opening soon."  
  
It was at this time that Harry spoke for the second time. "You two go on. I think I'm just going to hang around here today."  
  
Ron and Hermione shared a look that clearly said, "Now what?" but in lieu of that response, Hermione simply said, "Harry..."  
  
But Harry shook his head. "I'm fine. Just go on, okay?"  
  
Hermione glanced over at Ron who simply nodded his head silently, communicating that things were better left alone as it was. Hermione sighed softly and reluctantly nodded, too. "Alright."  
  
Ron and Hermione then disappeared up the stairs, and Harry sat down feeling worse and more frightened than he had since that night back in June.  
  
********************************************  
  
  
  
When he was alone in Gryffindor Tower, save the First and Second Years, Harry made a decision. He'd spent the day being bothered by questions, and he'd finally resolved to get some sort of explanation from the one person within asking distance that might actually know. Sure, he could ask Dumbledore or McGonagall or any number of people vague questions about the topic, but there was only one person at Hogwarts that would actually know the real story.  
  
And that person was Professor Remus Lupin.  
  
As it had last time, it took several moments for Professor Lupin to finally open the door, and when he did, he looked genuinely surprised at his visitor.  
  
"Harry," he said, a bit shocked. "What are you doing? Why aren't you in Hogsmeade?"  
  
Harry glanced down at the ground quickly before looking back up. "Professor Lupin, can I talk to you?"  
  
"Well, of course," the teacher answered instantly. He held the door open and motioned for Harry to come in. Harry did so, albeit a bit reluctantly; he took the seat that was offered to him and politely refused the offered cup of tea.  
  
Professor Lupin sat down across from him and eyed him curiously. "What's going on? Is your scar bothering you at all?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, it's not that. I just needed to ask you a question."  
  
"Well, what is it?"  
  
Harry looked away, suddenly feeling more than a little apprehensive. In a small voice, he said, "If I ask you, will you promise to tell me the truth no matter what?"  
  
The teacher furrowed his brow a bit, but then nodded. "Of course I will."  
  
Harry nodded and looked away. In a very, very quiet voice, he finally posed his question. "Did I kill my parents?"  
  
There was a long silence in which no one spoke. Harry finally turned his gaze to the older man and saw that the teacher was looking at him with a very serious expression. "Don't tell me that you read that Skeeter's woman article," he said calmly.  
  
Harry just raised his eyebrows. "It's true, though, isn't it? Voldemort didn't even want them, did he? He just wanted me."  
  
"Harry..." Professor Lupin seemed to be trying to approach this as tactfully as possible.  
  
Harry, though, wasn't in the mood for tact. "Please, just tell me the truth," he said quickly. "Please."  
  
With a reluctant sigh, Lupin nodded slightly. "Yes. Voldemort was after you."  
  
Harry didn't react to the news; he'd prepared himself for hearing it. He simply bit down slightly on his lower lip and barely nodded his head. "So, it was my fault. I killed my parents."  
  
"Harry, you did not kill you parents." Lupin's response was immediate, and it was clear that he was quite serious. "Don't even think for a moment that any of it was your fault."  
  
Harry looked up and met his teacher's eye. "But it was. He didn't even want them."  
  
Lupin shook his head. "Yes, Voldemort wanted you, but your parents made the decision to protect you. They did that because they loved you."  
  
Harry didn't want to hear that his parents loved him and gave their lives so that he might live. He wanted to know the truth; he wanted to know things that no one else could tell him. Looking up at his teacher seriously, he said, "What were they like? I don't know anything about them at all."  
  
Lupin sighed softly and settled himself more comfortably into the cushioned chair he was on. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair and appeared to be lost in thought for a moment. Clearing his throat slightly, he started to answer the question. "They were complete opposites of each other. Completely."  
  
Harry smiled slightly, already enjoying the fact that he was getting at least some of his questions answered. "Really?"  
  
The professor nodded. "Oh, yeah. They were close friends, but they fought all the time. About anything and everything. It was actually quite amusing most of the time." He chuckled softly. "When we were very young, we used to tease each other at your mother's expense."  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"  
  
Lupin rolled his eyes. "Oh, you know, silly eleven year old stuff. 'Ewww... You're gonna marry Lily!' Of course, Lily would hear us and bless us all out for even thinking that any of us had a chance with her." He smiled softly. "But James was always mad about her."  
  
"He was?" The question was soft.  
  
Nodding, the teacher went on. "Yeah. But we were all crazy in love with Lily at some point or another- even Sirius who fought with her even more than James did."  
  
Not knowing what to think of the latest statement, Harry just asked for clarification while battling a smile of his own. "You were in love with my mother?"  
  
Professor Lupin laughed quietly. "It was impossible not to be in love with your mother." Smiling reminiscently, he said, "She was the most beautiful girl in the entire school. And the smartest, and she was so funny. And just so genuinely nice..." He shook his head tuttingly. "But everyone always knew she was destined for James, even though they liked to deny it for many years." Pausing for a second to reflect, he suddenly laughed right out. "Do you want to hear something entirely disturbing?"  
  
Harry, of course, wanted to hear anything and everything he could.  
  
Lupin wrinkled his nose, as if he was debating whether or not to subject Harry to the next bit of news. Finally, he shook his head and said, "Okay, but remember I warned you." There was no mistaking the snicker that escaped his lips before he went on. "When I said everyone was in love with her, I meant it. Your dear old Potions Professor asked her out on more than one occasion."  
  
Harry was vaguely aware that his eyes were probably the size of saucers. An extremely queasy feeling settled in his stomach as the words set in. "Please, please tell me your joking," he pleaded seriously.  
  
Professor Lupin laughed loudly. "Unfortunately I'm not."  
  
Harry was sure that he was going to be sick at any moment. "Please, tell me she never said yes."  
  
Still laughing, Lupin shook his head, and relief washed over Harry. "No, she never said yes. Of course, she was too nice to be rude about it, much to all of our chagrin..." He shook his head out of that wishful thinking and said, "But when it became obvious that she and James were together, he gave up completely and was rude enough for everyone. God, he hated your father."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, no shit. Trust me, I figured that out years ago."  
  
Lupin laughed again, but it faded away as he went on. "But Snape really got bad during our last year and a half. He was awful to your mum."  
  
"How so?"  
  
Thinking up the most appropriate analogy, the teacher finally said, "Think Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger."  
  
Harry felt anger just at the mention of the name. "Snape was like Malfoy?"  
  
"Well, maybe no so prissy. And a lot uglier," he added as an after- thought. "But his favorite words when we were Seventh Years were, 'Mudblood Evans.' He was a real jackass."  
  
The younger male's blood heated up slightly with the words. "So, my mum got teased by the Slytherins just like Hermione does?"  
  
Lupin nodded. "Yeah, all Muggle-borns do from time to time, don't they? It's awful and it's bigotry, but it's always happened, and I reckon it always will."  
  
"The other day after Potions, Malfoy was being really awful to her. He threatened to smack her and was saying all this shit about how she was high up on some list but how there were a couple of people higher than her." He got angry just thinking about it. "I hate him."  
  
"He threatened to hit her?" Lupin looked ready to take action.  
  
Harry thought back to the day to get the exact quote. "Well, he said something like if we weren't in school, he'd smack that smug look off of her face so fast she wouldn't know what hit her. And then maybe she'd learn how to keep her place."  
  
Lupin looked disgusted. "He's probably seen his father smack his mother around a fair bit." He shook his head slightly. "It's awful. I feel sorry for him."  
  
Harry was positive he'd heard wrong. "For Draco Malfoy?! How can you feel sorry for him?! He's a bastard!"  
  
The professor held up his hand to quiet him down. "I know he is, but you have to understand what he's been raised in. He's the only child of probably the biggest bastard alive. Lucius Malfoy is pure evil, you understand? Pure evil." He looked disgusted just thinking about the other man. "And all those things- hatred and superiority and all those- they're all learned characteristics."  
  
"So, you're saying that he's been taught to hate me his entire life?" Harry wasn't convinced.  
  
"You probably have no idea the things he's heard about you from the time he was a year old. He probably hated you before he was three!"  
  
"But he tried to be my friend when he first found out who I was. If he hated me, why would he do that?"  
  
Lupin smirked. "He was probably thinking of how much his father would dote upon him if he was able to put a stable connection from his family to you." As an afterthought, he said, "Why didn't you accept his offer, though?"  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh, something about the comment, 'No need to ask who you are. My father told me all Weasleys have red-hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford,' turned me off of that particular offer."  
  
Harry was sure that he saw the teacher smile briefly. "So, you'd already met Ron at that point, I see."  
  
"Yeah, he came into my compartment because everywhere else was full. And Mrs. Weasley was the one who told me how to get onto the barrier because Hagrid felt the need to leave me before telling me where the platform was. So, they were the first people I met."  
  
Lupin looked just as interested in this story as Harry had been in Lupin's stories earlier. "When did you meet Hermione?"  
  
Harry groaned slightly and rolled his eyes. "On the train."  
  
The professor laughed. "Why are you looking like that?"  
  
"Because she came in with Neville, and they were looking for his toad. And then the next thing we know, she's perched herself into the seat beside Ron and is telling him that he's doing magic wrong. He was trying to turn Scabbers-" Harry cut off and looked up at Lupin carefully. A little quieter, he said, "He was trying to turn the rat yellow, and he had a really stupid spell. And what was it she said? Oh, yeah." In a mimicking of eleven-year old Hermione, Harry said, " 'Are you sure that's a real spell? Well, it's not very good, is it?' And then she proceeded to tell him that he had a dirty face."  
  
Professor Lupin laughed. "So, I take it you didn't get off on a good foot with young Miss Granger, did you?"  
  
"No, we hated her." He smiled slightly. "Ron was really, really, really mean to her back then. Even more so than he is now."  
  
"Why did you guys dislike her so much?"  
  
"Because she was such a little know-it-all, and she was like a talking rule book!" Harry laughed. "She followed us downstairs one day, and we got locked out of the Common Room. And that happened to be the night that we first ran into Fluffy- you know, Hagrid's three-headed dog?" Lupin nodded. "And when we got back to the Common Room, she actually said, 'We could have all been killed- or worse expelled!' You should have heard Ron on that one..."  
  
Lupin laughed at the image, and Harry snickered at the memory. "So, what changed?"  
  
Harry rolled his eyes again. "Ron made her cry."  
  
"And this made you all best friends...?"  
  
"Well, she locked herself in the girls' bathroom, and then, of course because what else would happen, a mountain troll was set lose in the school. And then we sort of locked it in the bathroom with her."  
  
"Harry!"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No! It was an accident!" He laughed. "We were trying to lock it up, so it wouldn't get to her. And then when we realized it was the bathroom, we went in there and rescued her. And the rest is history."  
  
Lupin was smirking slightly. "You three certainly have a knack for mischief, don't you? It's a wonder you all haven't been expelled three times over."  
  
Harry returned with his own smirk. "We're just really good at not getting caught. We have a bit of help in that area, but then... I'm sure you know all about that, don't you?"  
  
The professor turned a slight red. "I guess I should confiscate that map again, shouldn't I?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, you don't know that we have it. For all you know, it could have gotten burned up in a fire somewhere. Or dropped into the lake."  
  
Lupin smiled. "Right." He laughed. "But I know all about the trouble that piece of parchment can get you out of. And the Invisibility Cloak, too."  
  
Harry smiled, too. "Yeah, but we can't all fit under the Cloak anymore. It used to cover all three of us, and now it only covers one- two at best if it's me and Hermione, and that's only if I squat down."  
  
"Well, I can imagine. Must put a damper on the rule breaking, eh?"  
  
"Nah," Harry said with a hint of a mischievous smirk. "The map is still quite useful."  
  
"Well, just make sure you don't get it confiscated. You'd have a nice time explaining that one away. And I'd probably lose my job."  
  
:Laughing, Harry said, "Well, I don't reckon anyone would be able to use it anyway, would they?"  
  
The professor raised an eyebrow. "Well, I trust someone taught you how to use it, no?"  
  
"Yeah, but that was the Weasley twins." He rolled his eyes. "They found it in a drawer marked 'Confiscated and Highly Dangerous.' They could figure out how to work anything with that label."  
  
"Yeah, I remember the day it got confiscated..." Professor Lupin looked strangely reminiscent. "It was all Sirius' idiot fault."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Lupin snickered. "You probably don't want to know."  
  
Harry's interest was definitely piqued now. "Yes, I do!" he piped up instantly.  
  
Still snickering, Lupin went on. "Well, Sirius and Peter and I had the map out, and we were trying to find... Well, our plan was to find your mum and dad, actually, and to distract them from whatever they were... engaged in. Because they had a tendency to just disappear for long periods of time..." He let his voice trail and glanced at Harry who didn't know whether to laugh or feel slightly sickened. "And, well, we'd just located them; they were in the broom closet at the end of the fifth floor corridor." Harry snorted. "So, we headed up there with the intent to barge in and interrupt them, but we weren't paying attention to the map anymore. And, of course, Filch just had to be roaming that particular hallway." Harry could definitely relate. "And, you know, it was past curfew, and we didn't have the Cloak at all because James had taken it with him, so we were just basically very screwed. Filch caught us, and Sirius tried to stuff the map into his pocket, but he didn't even attempt to be smooth about it, so, of course, it looked extremely suspicious. And, to make a long story short, Filch grabbed it, and Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs decided to write him a friendly little message."  
  
Harry laughed outright. "Oh, my God!" He remembered clearly the things that the Marauders had had to say to Professor Snape two years before.  
  
Lupin nodded. "Yep. I believe it was something along the lines of, 'Find a real woman, so you can stop fooling around with your cat,' or something like that. It wasn't pretty, trust me."  
  
Harry couldn't stop snickering. "How much trouble did you get into?"  
  
"A full month of detention and a loss of seventy-five House points. But that was probably getting off easy."  
  
Harry nodded, still laughing. "But I bet he spent three hours telling you how much he wished he could use corporal punishment and beat you with a branch from the Whomping Willow or at least string you up by your toes in the dungeons, didn't he?"  
  
"I see he hasn't changed much."  
  
"No, I've heard it more times than I care to remember. But, hey, why didn't you guys just use the Invisibility Cloak to sneak into Filch's office and steal the Marauder's Map back?"  
  
"Well, it was just three months till graduation, and we wanted to leave our legacy behind. We figured that if someone was worthy enough of possessing the map, they would find a way to get it and use it." He grinned. "I suppose you can't get much worthier than Fred and George Weasley, huh?"  
  
Harry smiled fondly. "Nope. They're going to open a joke shop when they graduate. Unless, of course, Mrs. Weasley gets her way. She hates the idea of them 'throwing away their lives' on pranks. She wants them to work at the Ministry like Percy. She might changer her mind now, though, because no one's heard from Percy in months."  
  
Lupin raised an eyebrow. "Really? Has the Ministry got him working off somewhere?"  
  
"Yeah, but no one knows where. It's top-secret or something. I don't know. Even his dad doesn't know where he is."  
  
"Well, what about you, Harry?" Lupin nodded in his direction. "What do you want to do with your life?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "I dunno. Last year I sort of thought I'd like to be an Auror, but now I think my main goal is just to see my sixteenth birthday." He couldn't hide the bitterness in his voice.  
  
The teacher frowned. "Don't think like that. You're going to be fine, and I'm sure you'll be successful in whatever you decide to do."  
  
Harry perked up slightly. "I'd really like to play Quidditch after I get out of school, but I don't know if I'm good enough."  
  
"You are," Lupin said without hesitation. "You could get a position on probably any team in the league. I'd put you up against Viktor Krum even."  
  
Harry couldn't help but laugh a little. "Yeah, I'm sure Ron would love to see that."  
  
Lupin smiled knowingly. "Oh, yeah. Hermione, right? What was with that anyway?"  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "I don't know. I didn't ask, and she didn't tell me, and I have no desire to know really. All I know is supposedly he's dating some French model or something now." He shrugged again. "And I don't know anything about Ron and Hermione, either, so please do me a favor and don't ask."  
  
Professor Lupin laughed. "Okay, I won't. But speaking of Ron and Hermione- what do they want to do when they get out of school?"  
  
"I don't really know," Harry answered truthfully. "Ron mentioned something about Auror training, too, but I don't know if he was serious. And Hermione will probably go work for the Ministry. Or maybe she'll stay here and teach. Or she might be a medi-witch." He shook his head. "I don't know. She could be anything. Except a Quidditch player," he added as an afterthought.  
  
"She certainly has potential, doesn't she?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah. She's too smart for her own good sometimes. Any place would jump at the chance to offer her a job."  
  
"Except a Quidditch team," Lupin said through a smile.  
  
Harry laughed. "Yeah. Except a Quidditch team."  
  
As the two of them continued their conversation, Harry realized he felt better than he had all day. Hogsmeade was definitely overrated.  
  
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So? I adore feedback! 


	30. An Invitation You Can't Refuse

A/N: Wow, you guys! Thanks to everyone who is enjoying the story and leaving such wonderful feedback! You guys are what keeps me motivated!  
  
Disclaimer: None of them are mine yet...  
  
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"I'm really worried." Hermione's statement as she walked down the main street of Hogsmeade drew Ron's attention away from a window display of Chudley Cannons memorabilia.  
  
"Worried about what? Harry?" He raised an eyebrow in question.  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yes. I'm afraid he's going to go back to blaming himself for everything."  
  
"Go back?" Ron raised the other brow. "He's never stopped, Hermione."  
  
Hermione pinched her lips in worry. "What do you mean? He doesn't talk about Cedric or anything having to do with that night anymore. I thought he was over it."  
  
"Just because he doesn't come right out and talk about it doesn't mean he's over it," Ron said seriously. "He says enough while he's sleeping to prove that he's far from over it."  
  
Hermione looked away, now thoroughly worried. "He talks in his sleep?"  
  
"He has nightmares." Ron glanced down at the ground as though he wasn't sure that he should be divulging this information. "But he never talks about them. I don't think he knows that the rest of us know, but it's kind of hard not to when he's yelling out and flopping around on his bed."  
  
Hermione bit down hard on her lower lip; she was trying not to get too worrisome. "Are you sure that it's nightmares?"  
  
Ron nodded as they walked into the Three Broomsticks for a drink. They ordered two butterbeers and took them to an empty table at the edge of the restaurant. "He's been having them all summer."  
  
"Why won't he talk about them?" Hermione blew a bit on the steaming butterbeer and looked up curiously.  
  
Ron shrugged. "I reckon he's embarrassed. Or maybe he just doesn't want anyone else to worry about him- God knows he has enough as it is."  
  
"But people have a reason to worry! He's been through so much, and he needs to talk about it and get it out in the open. Talking about it is the only way he's going to get better."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes slightly. "Hermione, it's not that easy."  
  
"Of course it is!" she spoke up heatedly. "He needs to stop playing the hero and let someone else shoulder some of the burden for once."  
  
"He can't really help playing the hero, can he? He's never had any other option."  
  
"Well, he has options now," Hermione said briskly. "He just needs to take them."  
  
"Trust me," Ron said matter-of-factly. "Harry is not going to allow anyone to do that. It would make him feel too guilty, and he's got enough guilt on him as it is."  
  
Hermione looked down at the table, pondering Ron's statement. Quietly, she looked up and asked him another question. "What does he say in his sleep?"  
  
Ron went extremely quiet and took a long drink of his butterbeer. He set the mug down and ran a nervous hand through his hair, shrugging slightly as he did so. "Mostly he talks about his mum and his dad and Cedric. But sometimes he talks about other people."  
  
"Who?"  
  
Ron looked at her and hesitated for a moment. Finally, he answered her in a soft tone. "You... me... Sirius..."  
  
Hermione felt a sudden amount of dread. She swallowed and said, "What does he say?"  
  
Ron was looking extremely uncomfortable, and Hermione was sure this was because he was feeling that he was somehow betraying Harry's confidence by telling her this. But she was his best friend, too, and it wasn't as if he'd been sworn to secrecy- Harry didn't even know that he knew. One thing was for certain, though; he was definitely not going to tell Hermione that two nights ago Harry had talked about her death being his fault.  
  
This was due mostly to the fact that Ron refused to believe that he had heard correctly.  
  
Taking another sip of his drink, he answered her. "He just talks about putting us in danger and stuff like that." It was a vague answer and not exactly a lie, so he didn't feel too bad.  
  
Hermione nodded a little. "You can tell he hasn't been sleeping properly; he's got horrible bags under his eyes, and he's getting terribly thin."  
  
Ron found some humor in this and snorted into his mug. "You sound like my mum."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, it's the truth. He looks awful."  
  
"I'm sure he'd be flattered to hear you say that, Hermione," Ron said sardonically.  
  
Hermione went a little red. "I'm not trying to be mean," she clarified quickly. "I'm just worried for him, that's all."  
  
"Let's leave the worrying to Dumbledore and Sirius and Professor Lupin and McGonagall and my parents and all those people, okay? All we need to do is act as normal as possible."  
  
For someone who never managed to get his homework done on time, Ron certainly knew the correct answers to some things. Hermione hated admitting that he was right, but she had no choice.  
  
With a delayed sigh, she nodded and said, "I guess that's the best thing."  
  
After they finished their butterbeers, Hermione told Ron that she wanted to visit the Muggle telephone booth across the road and phone her parents. It was something that she never passed up an opportunity to do, as she rarely got to converse with them any other way except for letters. Ron nodded and waited as she deposited her money and dialed the number.  
  
After three rings, a click sounded and a voice drifted into Hermione's ear. "Hello?"  
  
"Mum!" she said excitedly.  
  
"Hi, Sweetheart! How are you?"  
  
"I'm fine. How are you?"  
  
"Wonderful."  
  
"And Daddy?" Ron snickered as she said this; he'd always found it quite hilarious that she still referred to her father as Daddy. Hermione sent an annoyed glare in his direction.  
  
"He's doing well. He's at the office at the moment- emergency root canal. Are you in Hogsmeade?"  
  
"Yes. This is our last trip before Christmas holiday."  
  
"Have you done your Christmas shopping?"  
  
"Some of it. Have you?"  
  
Her mother chuckled. "Yes, I've finished with your presents," she said, answering the hidden question.  
  
Hermione smiled. "What do you want me to do over the break?"  
  
"Well, what do you want to do, Dear?"  
  
"I don't know. I don't really want to stay at school."  
  
"Then come home. You father and I would love that!"  
  
Hermione glanced sideways at Ron. "Well..."  
  
Her mother laughed again. "You don't want to leave your friends?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
There was a brief moment of silence as her mother apparently thought something over. "Well, then bring them with you. They've never been here, and Ron's mother is pregnant, isn't she?"  
  
Hermione smiled into the phone. "Yes."  
  
"Well, she certainly doesn't need three extra bodies around the house! You'll all come here for holiday. How does that sound?"  
  
Hermione couldn't help but feel extremely excited at the idea. However, she was aware of the fact that she'd have to get Ron and Harry's opinions on the idea before anything definite was set. "I'll ask them," she said finally.  
  
"I won't take no for an answer."  
  
"Okay, Mum," Hermione said briskly. "I'll ask them."  
  
"Good."  
  
"But I have to go now because someone else needs to use the telephone." She looked at the Fourth Year Hufflepuff waiting patiently behind Ron. "I'll owl you, though, okay?"  
  
"Alright, Sweetheart. I love you."  
  
"Love you, too. Bye!"  
  
"Bye."  
  
Hermione hung up the phone and stepped away from the booth. Ron was currently studying a severed finger on display in a junk shop. He looked thoroughly disgusted.  
  
"You want to go to Honeyduke's?" she asked, drawing his attention away from the window.  
  
Ron looked at her as if she'd just asked him if birds had wings. "Of course."  
  
They started making their way down the street, and Ron said, "So, how're you parents?"  
  
"They're good. My father was at the office, though, so I didn't get to talk to him."  
  
Ron laughed. "Is Daddy too busy pulling teeth to talk to his ickle baby girl?"  
  
Hermione punched him in the arm. "Shut up." And then she haughtily finished with, "He's doing an emergency root canal for you information."  
  
Ron snickered again as he gingerly rubbed the spot that she had just hit. "You're going to break my arm one of these days."  
  
"Well, I'm sure you'll deserve it when I do," she said matter-of-factly.  
  
"You sure hit hard for someone so small."  
  
Hermione smirked triumphantly. "Yes. And don't you ever forget that. Then your mummy would have to come and take care of you."  
  
"Nah, I expect she's rather busy," he answered good-naturedly.  
  
"Speaking of," Hermione said, thankful for a way to ease into the suggestion. "I asked my mum about holiday, and she said she didn't want us bothering your mum while she's pregnant. So, she wants you and Harry to come to my house for the break." She said this very quickly and then finished with, "If you want to, you know."  
  
Ron was grinning in a way that made Hermione very apprehensive. "Your mother wants all of us at her house for three whole weeks?"  
  
Hermione nodded, fighting the inexplicable blush. "Well, yeah. I mean, we have plenty of room, so it's not like it would be a big deal."  
  
Ron was still smiling in that curious way. "Of course we want to come! We've never been to your house before..."  
  
"Why are you looking like that?" she questioned suspiciously.  
  
Ron obviously tried to look innocent. "Well, we've never seen where you grew up. It will be an interesting learning experience."  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow, not really trusting him at all. "I'm sure it looks the same as Harry's house. You know, minus the aunt, uncle, and cousin."  
  
Ron shook his head. "Nah, they've got the cleanest house I've ever seen. Your mum is probably way too busy to worry with things like that. It's crazy clean in there."  
  
"We have a housekeeper."  
  
Ron's eyes widened slightly. "You have a maid?!"  
  
"Well, she only comes once a week. My parents just think it's easier to pay someone to do the cleaning than to do it themselves."  
  
"Wow," Ron said wistfully. "Wish we had a maid. That'd be almost as good as having a house-elf!"  
  
Hermione stopped dead in her step and glared at him. Ron looked at her and laughed loudly. "Oh, come on, Hermione. You have a maid- what's the difference?"  
  
"The difference," Hermione said haughtily as she started walking again, "is that we pay our housekeeper very well. House-elves are simply makeshift slaves."  
  
They continued to bicker about the status of House-elves and housekeepers, but neither of them missed the familiar feeling of comfortableness that settled over them as they did.  
  
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"Chocolate Frogs, Fizzing Whizbees, and a box of sugar quills." Ron dropped the bag onto the table where Harry sat doing his Transfiguration homework. "You can thank me later."  
  
Harry looked to be in a much better mood than the one they'd left him in, and he grinned as he glanced up at Ron. "Thanks!" He reached into the bag and pulled out a Chocolate Frog. After unwrapping it, he found that the card was Marciny, a witch he'd collected three of already. He set the card aside and bit the head off of the frog; his mouth was full of chocolate as he said, "So, how was Hogsmeade?"  
  
Ron reached into his own bag of candy and pulled out a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. He looked into the bag and withdrew a safe looking red bean. Popping it into his mouth, he chewed it for a moment before smiling. "Strawberry," he supplied before answering the question. "It was good. Zonko's was having a sell on Filibuster Fireworks, but they were all cleaned out by the time I dragged Hermione out of the bookstore. Fred and George probably bought them all anyway." He shook his head. "And Honeyduke's was giving out samples of this new taffy, but it was sort of gross. Oh! And guess what else."  
  
Harry was quite sure that he could guess for hours and not get the right answer, so he simply raised his eyebrows in curiosity and said, "What?"  
  
Ron smiled wickedly. "Hermione called her mum, and Mrs. Granger said she wants you and me to go to her house for Christmas holiday."  
  
Harry was quite surprised, and it was with widened eyes, that he said, "Are you for real?"  
  
Ron nodded. "Yep! Mental, isn't she?"  
  
Harry laughed. "Slightly."  
  
"This is going to be great! We'll be able to get all sorts of useful information on Hermione that she would never willingly tell us!"  
  
Harry snickered. "That's a great reason to visit with your friend's family over the holidays..."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up. You know you want to get blackmail material on her just as badly as I do. Just think of all the homework we could make her do if we get something really good! We'd never have to worry about our grades again!"  
  
Harry laughed. "What made her ask us anyway?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "I dunno. I think Hermione said she didn't want to stay at school or something, and her mother said that we don't need to be bothering my mum with three extra people while she's pregnant. So, I guess she just decided we should go there instead."  
  
"Well, I'm up for it, and obviously you are, too. But is your mum gonna care?"  
  
Ron shrugged again. "I don't think so. She'll probably be thankful- well, you know, except for the fact that you won't be there for her to fuss over." Harry rolled his eyes, and Ron smiled. "But it's not like she's used to seeing us at Christmas anyway."  
  
Harry nodded. This was true; they'd not gone to the Burrow for Christmas in all four years that they'd been in school. "Then it looks like we're going to the Grangers for Christmas, huh?"  
  
Ron nodded, too. "Yep."  
  
At that moment, the portrait hole swung open, and Hermione came in with an armload of books that she had insisted on stopping by the library and getting before she returned to the Common Room. She hauled them over to the table where the boys were sitting and let them fall with a great sigh.  
  
Harry eyed the tall stack of textbooks and couldn't help but feel exasperated at Hermione. The titles ranged from "Possible Exam Questions for the Ordinary Wizarding Levels" to "Complex Charms Likely to Be Used in an Exam" to "Bewitching Your Exam Papers With Anti-Cheating Spells."  
  
"Hermione," he said cautiously, "do you think you've got enough books?"  
  
She sighed and looked rather sharply at Ron while answering Harry's question. "No, not really. I could have had a lot more, but someone insisted on running straight up here instead of helping me. And this is all that I could carry."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "Well, now there's a shock. This stack of books probably weighs more than you do."  
  
"Then allow me to thank you for offering to help," she said sarcastically.  
  
Ron shrugged carelessly. "No problem."  
  
Hermione narrowed her eyes and muttered something with the word "insufferable" in it while slumping into the chair beside Ron. She looked up at the boys with their mouth so full of candy that they could barely speak properly and shook her head disapprovingly. "You two are going to rot your teeth out," she said matter-of-factly.  
  
Harry started to retort with something, but Ron beat him to it. Barely glancing over at her, Ron pulled a Pumpkin Pasty out of his bag and promptly shoved it into Hermione's open mouth. "Eat that and shut up."  
  
Harry didn't know whether to find more humor in Ron's nonchalant manner of in the look on Hermione's face as she sat with a Pumpkin Pasty hanging out of her mouth. He burst into laughter at about the same time that Hermione reached up and removed the sweet.  
  
"Fine!" she said exasperatedly. "You two eat your candy and rot your teeth and your brains. See if I care if you'd rather be doing that instead of doing something useful like studying for the O.W.L.s. You're going to be in rotten places when you don't know anything that you're supposed to!"  
  
This caused Ron to laugh loudly as he filled Harry in on Hermione thinking that Puddlemere played in the 1942 League Cup. The boys found even more humor when Harry suddenly remembered something he'd never told Ron.  
  
"Last year she was so angry at all those girls who kept stalking Krum," at this point, Ron scowled slightly, but Harry went on, "that she said they only liked him because he could do a..." he snickered under his breath, "a Wonky Faint!"  
  
Ron's mouth fell open as he stared disbelievingly at the girl on his left. "... A Wonky Faint?!"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and tossed her hair over her left shoulder. "Well, excuse me for having more important things to study than Quidditch terms and stats." She bitterly raised the Pumpkin Pasty to her mouth again and took a bite out of it.  
  
Harry and Ron both laughed even harder at this. Ron grinned cheekily at Hermione. "I was just telling Harry about your mother's lovely invitation."  
  
Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Consider it revoked."  
  
"Aw, come on, 'Mione," Ron said teasingly; this earned a rather nasty glare from the addressed girl. "We're just teasing."  
  
"If you two make fun of me this much to my face, I hate to see what you're like behind my back."  
  
Harry smirked. "We don't make fun of you behind your back- all the fun's in seeing your reaction."  
  
"Yes, you're just so damn easy to provoke," Ron added with a grin.  
  
Hermione "hmphed" at them and continued to eat the candy as she reached for one of the books and opened it. "Are you guys really coming?" she asked as she scanned the Table of Contents.  
  
"Of course we're coming!" Ron exclaimed. He shared a private smirk with Harry, who snickered under his breath at Ron's motives.  
  
Hermione looked up. "So, I should tell my mum yes?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Tell her we'll see her at King's Cross on December 15th."  
  
Hermione smiled to herself and went back to studying. Ron and Harry smiled at each other and dug back into the candy.  
  
Christmas at the Grangers was going to be an event to remember.  
  
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Up next... The trio arrives at Hermione's house, and the real fun begins!  
  
Please review!!!! 


	31. Home to the Grangers

A/N: THANK YOU to everyone who took the time to review the last chapter! You guys are the greatest! This part picks up just as the trio arrives at Hermione's house. I actually loved writing this chapter, so I'm hoping that you guys enjoy it. Good things to come- I swear!  
  
Disclaimer: None of them are mine.  
  
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When Harry first glimpsed Hermione's house, he was instantly awe-struck. It was one of the largest houses he had ever seen, and his first thought was that it was much, much too large for a family of three. It was in a London suburb, tucked in a neighborhood of several other huge houses. Dr. Granger pulled the car into a garage that held three other cars, and Harry chanced a glance at Ron who looked just as awed as Harry felt.  
  
Hermione opened her door and stepped out, walking around to the trunk of the car to retrieve her bag. Harry and Ron stayed in the car for a moment, both staring at each other in bewilderment.  
  
"Aren't you boys going to get out?" Hermione's mum was smiling at them kindly from outside Hermione's open door.  
  
They both looked up at her, shocked for a second before nodding slightly and getting out of the car. Once they'd gotten their bags, Hermione led them through the garage to an opening into the house. She stood aside while her father unlocked the door and held it open for the three teenagers to enter.  
  
The door opened into the kitchen, and Harry was instantly shocked at the fact that this kitchen seemed to be even neater than Aunt Petunia's. Something told him, though, that Hermione's mum hired someone to come in and do the cleaning, as she seemed much too busy and this house seemed much too large for her to keep up by herself. The kitchen was huge, and the refrigerator, countertops, and everything else were done in a very modern looking silver.  
  
"The living room is through there," Hermione said, pointing to a door while struggling to hold her bag with one hand. "But you can get to bedrooms up this way." She used her free hand to once again help steady her bag before leading them up a staircase in the corner of the kitchen. Harry looked over at Ron who, too, hadn't said a word since they'd arrived. The redhead seemed to be taking in everything in just as much, if not more, awe than Harry was.  
  
Hermione finally reached the top of the staircase and waited for the two boys to join her on the second landing. "There's five bedrooms," she explained. "But the only ones that get used are mine and my parents, so you two can pick whichever ones you want. I'll show you where the extra ones are."  
  
She lead them past a closed door that Harry guessed was the master bedroom and past what Harry could tell was a very large bathroom. Then she arrived at a point in the hall where two doors stood to her right and one stood to her left. "These are the guest rooms." She set her bag on the floor and opened each door in turn. "These two are bigger," she said, motioning to the two on her right, "so you'll probably want these. But you're welcome to any of them."  
  
Harry shrugged and glanced at Ron who shrugged, too. Hermione stared at them expectantly for only a moment before rolling her eyes and saying, "Fine. Harry, you take this one, and Ron you take that one."  
  
Harry couldn't help but grin as he followed her orders and entered the room she had set aside for him. It was close to the size of the room he and Ron had shared at the coast, much, much larger than his own bedroom on Privet Drive. It looked like something out of a Bed and Breakfast catalogue, and he half-expected to find a mint on the pillow. He placed his bag on the floor and turned around to see Hermione watching him from the doorway.  
  
"Is it alright?" she asked, a half-smile on her lips.  
  
Harry wanted to roll his eyes at her rather stupid question, but he opted to just nod and say, "Yeah, it's fine." Then he furrowed his brow and said, "Hermione, why do you have five bedrooms when only three people live here and two of those share a room?"  
  
Hermione laughed a little and shrugged. "We haven't always lived here. We moved here when I was nine. Before that, we lived in a two bedroom flat."  
  
Harry nodded absently before saying, "Where's Ron?"  
  
At that moment, Ron appeared beside Hermione in the doorway. Hermione looked up at him. "Is the room okay?"  
  
Ron looked at her as though she'd grown a second head. "Of course it is!"  
  
Hermione smiled a little. "Good."  
  
"Where's your room, Hermione?" Harry asked, walking toward his friends and joining them in the hall.  
  
Hermione pointed to the room at the end of the hall, next to Harry's. "Right there. If you carry my bag, I'll give you the grand tour," she teased lightly.  
  
Harry bent down and picked up her bag, staggering a little under the weight. Her bag was much, much heavier than his own. "Good God, Hermione! Don't tell me you brought schoolbooks with you!"  
  
Hermione blushed a little and said, "Of course I did. We still have to keep up our studies even if we are on holiday. The O.W.L.s are coming up in less than five months!"  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "I will never understand you."  
  
Hermione rolled her own eyes. "Well, no one is forcing you to. Now do you want to see my room or not?"  
  
Both boys nodded and followed her the short distance to her door. As soon as she'd opened it and let them in, Harry's mouth fell open. Her room was nearly twice the size of the huge one he would be staying in, and it was absolutely spotless. But that wasn't the strangest thing about it...  
  
"This is such a girls' room!"  
  
Ron's exclamation just about summed it all up.  
  
It was true; the walls were painted a light beige color, while the rest of the room was done completely in pale yellow. A canopy bed stood in the middle of the room, yellow hangings falling down to drape over a wrought- iron bed complete with yellow bedding. Against one wall set a huge oak desk upon which rested the most modern of computers. Against another wall was a matching oak bookcase that held not books, surprisingly, but shelf after shelf of medals and trophies. A small wooden doll cradle sat in one corner complete with, from the looks of it, a very expensive porcelain baby doll in a white christening gown. A print of a Degas painting hung against one wall, directly opposite a huge bay window covered by flowing yellow drapes.  
  
Harry's mouth was open in somewhat shock.  
  
Hermione stared from Ron to Harry and then back again. "Oh, shut it, both of you," she said hastily. "And I know it's a girls' room, Ron," she said haughtily. "I am a girl, you know?"  
  
"I know," Ron said, staring around the room. "But this isn't what I expected your room to look like."  
  
"What did you expect?" she asked, placing her hands on her hips in anticipation.  
  
"Well, for one thing," Ron said slowly. "Where're all your books?" He was eyeing the bookshelf.  
  
"In the library downstairs."  
  
Harry had to fight down laughter at the look on Ron's face. He was gaping at Hermione. "You have a library?" he asked in shock. "In your house? You have a library in your house?"  
  
Hermione raised her eyebrows at him and gave him a bewildered look. "Did I suddenly develop a stuttering problem that I'm not aware of yet?"  
  
Harry snickered at that, but Ron just shook his head and said, "Why doesn't it surprise me that you have a library in your house? It's so typical."  
  
"What are all these awards for?" Harry asked, bypassing the argument that was sure to incur.  
  
Hermione blushed a little and shrugged. "Just different stuff. School and horseback riding and music and stuff like that."  
  
"I didn't know you rode horses," he said, turning to her.  
  
She nodded. "I used to do it competitively before I started Hogwarts."  
  
Harry was surprised, as he'd never heard her mention anything about it before. "Do you have a horse?"  
  
She nodded as she tugged her bag out of the center of the floor where Harry had dropped it and heaved it onto her bed. "Yes, but he's in a stable in the country." She walked over to the bookshelf and stood on tiptoe to retrieve a framed photograph. "Here's a picture of him," she said, holding the frame out to Harry. "His name is Dante."  
  
Harry looked down at the picture and saw a vision from the past. There beside a beautiful black horse stood the very same girl he'd met on the Hogwarts Express five years ago. A glance at the year on the trophy she was holding in the photo confirmed his guess."  
  
"This was the year we started Hogwarts," he said as he passed the picture to Ron.  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yeah, I think it was maybe two months before or something."  
  
Ron laughed a little. "You looked so different then."  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "And that's funny?" But she was teasing, and she broke into a good-natured smile.  
  
Ron smiled and held the picture back out to her. "What kind of music do you do?"  
  
"Huh?" Hermione reached back up and placed the picture back on the shelf.  
  
"You said you had awards for music," Ron said as she turned back around.  
  
"Oh!" She shook her head as though she was jerking herself out of some sort of reverie. "Violin and piano," she said absently.  
  
"Yeah?" Harry asked, interested in all this new information he was finding out about her. "Are you any good?"  
  
She shrugged. "I haven't played either in a long time, so probably not anymore."  
  
"Did you like it?" Ron asked with raised eyebrows.  
  
Hermione shrugged again. "I liked piano, I guess. I hated violin, though."  
  
"Why did you take it then?" Harry asked.  
  
"Because my parents made me. I started lessons when I was four, and they made me take them until I started Hogwarts."  
  
"They made you?" Harry raised an eyebrow.  
  
Hermione shrugged again. "They made me do a lot of things."  
  
"Like what else?" Ron asked curiously as he took it upon himself to perch himself onto Hermione's fluffy bed.  
  
Hermione shook her head at this and said, "Nothing. Never mind."  
  
Of course, this only piqued Harry and Ron's interest even more. "No, not never mind," Ron said, grinning slyly. "Tell us what else you used to do."  
  
Hermione sent him a sharp look and said, "Nothing," while inconspicuously shoving something around on the shelf behind her.  
  
Harry noticed and, of course, marched right over to the shelf to see what she was so obviously trying to hide. He looked behind a trophy for the highest average in English from her fourth year of Primary School and saw something that instantly made him crack up with laughter. Hermione darted in front of him before he could retrieve the object, though, and shot him a contemptuous look. "Go away," she said dangerously.  
  
Harry smirked and shook his head as he deftly grabbed her around the middle with one arm and used his free hand to produce a very tiny pair of ballet shoes. Just as Hermione made a move to grab them back, he tossed them across the room to the bed where Ron lunged and caught them easily- his Keeper reflexes in full use.  
  
Ron looked down at them for only a second before erupting into very loud laughter. "Ballet?!" he cried, almost in tears from laughing so hard. "You did ballet, Hermione?!"  
  
Hermione glared at him, her face a deep scarlet color now. "Shut up."  
  
Harry and Ron couldn't contain themselves, though, and Harry joined Ron on the bed so they could laugh together. "Look how little they are!" Harry said between fits of laughter.  
  
Ron looked up at Hermione and said, "Awe! Ickle 'Mione, prima ballerina."  
  
Hermione marched over to the boys and grabbed the shoes from them, glaring evilly at them both. "I didn't enjoy it!"  
  
"Sure, 'Mione," Harry said lazily. "That explains why you kept your shoes and have a Degas print hanging on your wall."  
  
Hermione blushed even more. "I kept the shoes because my mother wanted me to. And I have the Degas print because he is a wonderful painter, and I happen to have an appreciation for fine art." She said all of this very haughtily.  
  
Ron and Harry, though, were not convinced in the least. Ron bit down on his lower lip in order to ask the next question without erupting into hysterics. "So, did you wear a tutu?"  
  
Harry thought his lungs were going to burst from laughing so hard at the suggestion. Hermione was giving Ron the harshest of glares, and Harry could tell she was about to explode.  
  
Deciding that Hermione exploding was always a bit of amusement, he pushed her further. "Do you have any pictures?" Harry asked gleefully.  
  
"Yeah!" Ron spoke up instantly. "Let us see, Hermione!"  
  
Hermione looked as if she was ready to kill them both. "I don't have any pictures," she said evenly.  
  
Ron and Harry looked at each other with identical smirks. Turning back to their female best friend, Harry nodded casually. "Okay. Guess we'll just have to ask your mum then."  
  
Ron, too, nodded nonchalantly. "I'm sure she'll be able to dig something up." He couldn't hide his grin. "Probably even find some photos of naked baby Hermione in a sink or something."  
  
Hermione glared at them again. "I hate you both," she said seriously. "Do you know that? I really, really hate you."  
  
Ron and Harry just smirked at her. Harry nodded and said sweetly, "Love you too, 'Mione."  
  
In a great huff, Hermione turned around and threw open the door to her closet. She reached onto a shelf and retrieved a large black photo album. Furiously thumbing the pages, she finally found what she was looking for and thrust it roughly at the boys. "Here!" she said, never breaking the glare.  
  
Harry took the album into his lap, and he and Ron looked down at the page she had it opened to. Nothing in the world could have contained their guffawing at the sight before them. A very, very small Hermione of maybe five or six was grinning broadly at the camera, a very sizable gap where her front teeth should have been. She had her hair pulled into two braided plaits that bushed out at the end, and she was, in fact, wearing a pink leotard and tights complete with a fluffy pink tutu. She was standing on the balls of her feet with her arms stretched high over her head in a sort of half-circle.  
  
Harry found breathing very hard as he stared at the picture, and Ron actually had to put his head on his lap to keep from convulsing. Hermione stood with her arms crossed until they'd calmed and then she pursed her lips and said, "I'm glad you both find it so amusing."  
  
"It's funny, Hermione," Harry said, still forcing down giggles.  
  
"But too bad this is a Muggle photo," Ron said, smiling, "because I'd love to see you dancing!"  
  
Harry once again was overcome by a fit of laugher, and Hermione just rolled her eyes. "Oh, give me the book," she said testily.  
  
Harry jerked it out of her reach just in time, though. "Let us look at the rest of it." He grinned up at her. "Please? We'll be your best friends..."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes again and finally perched herself on the bed on the other side of Harry, grumbling the whole time.  
  
Harry flipped the album back to the first page, and all three of them peered down at it. Ron and Harry had a good time laughing at the pictures of a tiny, curly-headed toddler sitting amongst a mess of wrapping paper and boxes at Christmas, more engrossed in a large volume of fairytales than in the several dolls and toys surrounding her. There were pictures of a four year old Hermione balancing a violin almost bigger than her body on her shoulder. They saw pictures of Hermione in her Primary School uniform on her first day of school and pictures of her kindergarten class. They all laughed at a picture of a very stern looking Hermione giving a lecture to a "classroom" full of dolls and stuffed animals while pointing at a miniature blackboard complete with an algebra problem that looked much too complex for the seven year old in the picture. There were pictures that Hermione found absolutely appalling, of course, and while there were no naked Hermione in a sink pictures, they did see a picture of three year old Hermione up to her chin in nothing but bubbles. But, the worst by far was a picture of her as a four year old asleep on the family couch with a book open on her stomach, clad in nothing but a T-shirt and a pair of Winnie the Pooh panties with her thumb stuck in her mouth; she blushed about nine shades of red as she tried desperately to cover the photo with her hand. Harry and Ron, of course, forced her hand away and laughed even harder than they had at the ballet picture.  
  
"Why the hell did they take pictures like that?!" Hermione asked loudly as her face flushed for the thousandth time that afternoon.  
  
"Hermione, don't swear," Ron said in mock-seriousness before joining Harry in laughing.  
  
"Look at you sucking your thumb." Harry grinned wickedly at the girl on his left.  
  
Hermione glared at him. "How else did you think my teeth got so big?" The boys doubled over again.  
  
They went back to the photo album and happened upon pictures from several Halloweens. "You're parents let you go Trick-or-Treating?" Harry asked curiously, figuring that dentists probably frowned on the tradition.  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yes, but only to four houses a year. They said that's all the sweets I was allowed."  
  
Ron snorted. "Must have sucked to have dentists for parents, huh?" Ron was well-versed in Muggle traditions such as Trick-or-Treating.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "No. At least I didn't rot my teeth out or anything like some kids."  
  
They snickered at all of Hermione's various costumes. A princess, a pumpkin, a spider ("What the hell would you want to be a spider for?!" was Ron's response), a clown, and finally.  
  
A witch.  
  
All three of them doubled over with laughter at the last picture. Hermione was dressed as a Muggle's perception of a witch, complete with a black dress, a long black cape, a tall witch's hat, a ratty black wig, green make- up, and, of course, the ever popular large wart on the tip of the nose. She was giving her most menacing snare to the camera and clutching a Muggle broomstick.  
  
"Aren't you glad witches don't really look like that, Hermione?" Harry asked, smiling. "You'd be pretty damn ugly..."  
  
Ron snickered. "I dunno. She kinda looks like McGonagall there." He cocked his head to the side and studied the picture.  
  
Harry cracked up all over again, and it was clear that Hermione was trying very hard to look appalled by Ron's statement. She lost the battle, though, and ended up laughing with the other two.  
  
They looked through several more pages of photos before reaching the end of the book. Ron grinned at Hermione and said, "You do realize that we now have blackmailing material for all eternity, don't you?"  
  
After glaring ruefully at the redhead, Hermione took on a smug look and said, "You just wait until the next time we're at your house, Ron. I'll make sure to ask Mrs. Weasley for all the family photo albums post 1980. "  
  
Harry snickered, but to his surprise, Ron just shrugged. "Go ahead and ask her. You won't find many. By the time they got to me, babies were old news and they were sick of taking pictures." Smirking at her, he added, "Sucks to be an only child, doesn't it?"  
  
Hermione was just about to respond, but a knock at her door interrupted the brewing row. "Yes?" she called in slight annoyance.  
  
Her mother poked her head through the door. "I was just checking to see if you all got settled alright."  
  
"We're fine, Mum," Hermione said shortly.  
  
The older woman nodded and smiled. "Good. I'm going to start dinner shortly, so if you need anything I'll be downstairs."  
  
Ron spoke up before she could leave. "Mrs. uh, Dr. Granger?"  
  
Dr. Granger laughed a little. "Mrs. Granger is fine, dear. We don't play the Dr. and Dr. thing here. Mr. and Mrs. will do."  
  
Ron nodded. "Right. Mrs. Granger, do you happen to have any more photo albums than just this one?" He smiled politely at her as he motioned to the open album on Harry's lap.  
  
Harry bit down on his lip to keep from laughing at the very, very dangerous glare Hermione was emitting in the direction of his best friend. The glare obviously went unnoticed by her mother, though, because she smiled kindly and nodded. "Of course, dear. We have loads of photographs. I'd be more than happy to show you some after dinner."  
  
Ron grinned in what Harry could tell was a hidden smirk and nodded. "That would be great. Thanks!"  
  
She smiled at them once more before leaving and shutting the door behind her. The moment her mother was out of sight, Hermione jumped up and turned to the bed, facing them both angrily. "You prat!" she exclaimed before idly lunging at Ron and shoving him backwards.  
  
Ron laughed as he raised himself back up and caught her wrists before she could shove him again. "What's the matter, 'Mione?" he questioned innocently.  
  
Harry snickered loudly, and Hermione turned her head sharply before twisting her body and aiming a kick at his head. Harry ducked just in time, laughing the whole time. "Did you take Karate, too?" he asked.  
  
Ron laughed. "Nah, they teach high kicks and things like that in ballet."  
  
Hermione then wrenched her wrists free of Ron's hands and shoved him again, succeeding enough in catching him off-guard to land him on his back. She quickly reached for a pillow to wallop him upside the head with. Ron managed to grab her arms once again and yank her onto the bed facedown between himself and Harry. She groaned and quickly flipped herself over to launch another attack, but Harry scooted himself backwards to where he could pin her arms over her head, and Ron wasted no time in actually sitting on her legs to keep them at bay, too.  
  
"Now what are you going to do?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.  
  
Hermione opened her mouth, Harry suspected to curse them both out, but was interrupted once again by a knock at the door. This knocker, though, entered without waiting for permission.  
  
Mr. Granger stopped dead in his tracks, though, as he surveyed the scene before him. Two boys literally pinning his daughter to her bed.  
  
It did not look good.  
  
The three teens all looked up in shock and disentangled themselves from each other in less than a second, all three of their faces burning bright red. There was no silence, though, because Hermione instantly tried to put on her most nonchalant smile and greeted her father. "Hi, Daddy."  
  
Mr. Granger didn't reply right away, though. He studied the scene for several more seconds before speaking. "Hello, Hermione. I was just coming to check and make sure everyone was settled."  
  
"Oh, Mum's already been up," she said, her voice a little higher than normal, twisting a bit on her place between Ron and Harry.  
  
He nodded as though he really didn't care. "Do you think I might have a word with your friends?" he asked, no trace at all of friendliness on his face.  
  
Ron, Harry, and Hermione all exchanged nervous glances. Harry saw that both of his best friends looked just as terrified as he felt, but he nodded uneasily. "Um, sure," he muttered, glancing once more at Hermione before looking meaningfully at Ron who swallowed and nodded a bit.  
  
This was not going to be good...  
  
******************************************** Well? First off, I know that Halloween is not that big of a thing in England, but I couldn't resist adding the part about Hermione's costumes. I want you all to know that I've had most of these parts written since this summer, and I'm very pleased with the plot developments that are very soon to come.  
  
Just remember... Patience is of virtue...  
  
Please review!!!! 


	32. Friendly Chats With the Doctors

A/N: Yes, here's another chapter I've been sitting on since this summer. I'm so glad you guys liked the last one. This holiday at the Grangers was great to write! I've got most of the pieces written already, so I can probably piece them together pretty quickly. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! I hope you continue to enjoy this story!!!  
  
Disclaimer: None of them are mine.  
  
*********************************************  
  
Hermione trudged down the stairs and into the kitchen where her mother was sitting at the table reading a magazine. Cheese lasagna could be smelt wafting its way through the downstairs as it baked in the oven, and Hermione noticed for the first time since she'd arrived home that she was hungry.  
  
Mrs. Linda Granger had always fancied herself to be a modern woman, and she'd always prided herself on the close relationship that she shared with her only child. She had always been able to read Hermione like a book, and when she saw her daughter walk rather glumly into the room and take a bottle of water from the refrigerator, she looked up from the magazine and said, "What's up?"  
  
Hermione shrugged and settled herself in a kitchen chair across from her mother. "Oh, nothing. Except I think Daddy's probably killing Harry and Ron right about now."  
  
Mrs. Granger raised a curious eyebrow. "What happened?"  
  
"Long story," Hermione sighed. "I'm sure you'll hear all about it from Daddy soon enough."  
  
Her mother chuckled softly. "So, are you glad to be on holiday?"  
  
"I suppose so. It's put a lot of things into perspective for me."  
  
"Oh, yeah? Like what?"  
  
Hermione scowled slightly. "Like the fact that I hate both of my best friends."  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Nothing; they're just prats." Hermione looked up at her mother seriously. "Mum, please don't show them anymore photo albums!"  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because they'll just tease me!"  
  
"Oh, why would they do that?" Mrs. Granger looked back down at her magazine, dismissing her daughter's silly claim.  
  
"Because that's just how they are!" Hermione protested immediately. "They've had an absolute field day with that one album."  
  
"Hermione, you were an adorable child. What could they have to tease you over?"  
  
"Oh, yes," Hermione said sarcastically. "I'm sure I was an adorable child dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and Winnie the Pooh knickers."  
  
"I love that picture!" Mrs. Granger looked up with a bright expression. "Is it in that album upstairs?"  
  
"Mum!"  
  
Mrs. Granger chuckled. "They're you're best friends," she said simply. "It's their job to tease you."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "The worst thing is that I don't even have any hope of retaliation. I'm sure there are no pictures of Harry growing up, and Ron said that everyone was sick of babies by the time he came along, so there aren't even that many of him."  
  
"How many siblings does he have again?"  
  
"Six." Hermione grinned slightly. "Well, seven soon."  
  
"And there's only one girl?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yeah. He's got five brothers, then him, and then Ginny. And then the new baby whenever it decides to show its face."  
  
Mrs. Granger sighed. "She's a better woman than I am. I can't even imagine raising eight children; I had enough trouble with one."  
  
"You got off easy. I was a perfect child," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "You should meet his whole family. There's no pattern to them or anything- they're all crazy different."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Mmmhmm." Hermione nodded, remembering the previous summer when she'd finally met the whole Weasley clan. "Bill's the oldest, but he works in Egypt as a curse-breaker for the Gringotts goblins. He was Head Boy at Hogwarts, but he's not your typical idea of one. He's got really long hair and an earring, and Mrs. Weasley is always nagging at him to cut it off and take the ring out of ear. He actually looks really cool, though. And then Charlie is the second oldest, and he actually trains dragons in Romania."  
  
"Real dragons?"  
  
Hermione smiled, knowing her parents still had trouble sometimes with believing in all of the things she'd come to know as the norm. Hermione nodded. "Yep. He was a Quidditch star at Hogwarts, and he could have played professional, but he turned everyone down for the dragons. And then there's Percy, who is by far the best behaved and most boring member of the family. He was Head Boy, too, and now he works for the Ministry. But no one's really heard from him in a few months, so we're not sure what's going on." Hermione paused before rolling her eyes. "And then there's Fred and George..."  
  
"The twins, right?"  
  
"Right. They are the biggest pair of troublemakers that Hogwarts has ever seen, and all they do is sit around and think up recipes to make people turn into various birds and amphibians. They're Seventh Years right now, and they keep saying they're going to open a joke shop, but that might now happen if Mrs. Weasley gets her way."  
  
"They sound like a handful."  
  
"They are. And then there's Ginny. She's always had this mad crush on Harry, so she used to be really quiet and shy whenever she was around us. But then last year she started opening up more, and now she's just like Fred and George. They've taken her under their wings and are turning her into a Queen Prankster. Mrs. Weasley is losing her mind."  
  
Mrs. Granger laughed. "Well, I can imagine. But where does Ron fall in all of this?"  
  
Hermione thought about that question for a moment before raising a shoulder slightly. "I dunno. I guess sort of in the middle. I mean, he's on the Quidditch team now, but that's now how he's made his name at Hogwarts or anything like Charlie did. And he's definitely not Prefect material- much less Head Boy," she rolled her eyes at the mere thought. "And he's really funny, but he doesn't spend a whole lot of time on pranks like the twins and Ginny." She looked up and took a sip of her water. "He's just Ron, I guess."  
  
Smiling, Mrs. Granger nodded. "Does his mother know if this one is a boy or a girl yet?"  
  
"No, they don't do that in the wizarding world. I guess we'll just have to wait and see. Ron says it's going to be a boy, and so do the twins. Ginny is convinced it's a girl, though." She grinned. "I hope it's a girl."  
  
"Have they got any names picked out?"  
  
"Not that I know of. Ron and Harry and Ginny and I made a list awhile ago, but it was all girls names, and it was just for fun really."  
  
For some reason, her mother found this amusing. "Ron and Harry actually sat with you girls and made a list of baby names?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yeah, but, of course, Ron made fun of every name I picked out. He said they all sounded like grandmum names."  
  
Stifling a smile, Mrs. Granger said, "He teases you a lot, doesn't he?"  
  
"All the time," she said ruefully. "But he's very protective over me if anyone else teases me."  
  
The stifled smile turned into a rather knowing smile, and Mrs. Granger nodded slightly.  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Why are you looking like that?"  
  
"Nothing, dear," she said briskly before changing the subject. "How are your grades?"  
  
"Good," Hermione said, taking a long sip of water. "We take the O.W.L.s in June."  
  
"The O.W.L.s?"  
  
"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," Hermione explained quickly. "They help with our placing for Sixth and Seventh years. That's when we get to start taking the Advanced Placement courses if we want to."  
  
"You will, of course?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Oh, I'm sure."  
  
"What about your friends? Will they take the AP courses, too?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. "I dunno. Probably not. They're both smart, but they don't apply themselves."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because they're typical boys," she answered simply. "They'd rather play Quidditch than study, and they'd rather sleep during lectures than take notes. If they'd just put more effort into their works, their grades would be really good. Ron's probably smarter than Harry, but his grades aren't as good. But all the teachers are being really lenient with Harry this year because of everything that happened last year." She paused for a moment and added, "Well, most of the teachers anyway," thinking that Snape would rather cut off his own arm and eat it than cut Harry Potter any sort of slack.  
  
"Well, boys will be boys," her mother said wistfully.  
  
Hermione suddenly remembered something and looked up. "Did I tell you I got into a fight?"  
  
Mrs. Granger instantly gave up on the magazine and stared wide-eyed at her daughter. "Excuse me?"  
  
Hermione nodded slightly. "Well, two fights really. But I didn't hit anybody in the second one."  
  
"What happened?" This was most definitely not typical of Hermione, and Linda Granger was quite curious to see what had caused the turnaround in her only child.  
  
"Well, the first one was with Draco Malfoy."  
  
"You got into a fight with a boy?" This was already too absurd to believe.  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yeah, he didn't really hit me back or anything. I just sort of attacked him."  
  
"Hermione!"  
  
"He deserved it!" she defended quickly.  
  
:"Who is he?"  
  
Without hesitation, Hermione said, "A spoiled, snobby, rich little bastard with a big mouth."  
  
Her mother's eyes widened slightly at the use of language, but she just allowed her daughter to continue.  
  
"He's in Slytherin, and his parents are Death Eaters."  
  
"Death Eaters?"  
  
"Dark wizards," Hermione clarified. "Followers of Voldemort." Having grown up in the Muggle world, the name didn't terrify her as much as it did some of the purebloods. "Anyway, he thinks he's better than everyone, and he was just running his mouth one day like he always does. He was taunting Ron because that's his favorite thing to do- the Weasleys and the Malfoys have always hated each other. And he was calling him poor and saying all sorts of stuff, and then he said something really mean about Mrs. Weasley, and I just lost it. So, I just sort of jumped on him and started beating him up." She shrugged as if this was all normal behavior for her.  
  
Mrs. Granger shook her head slightly. "And then what happened?"  
  
"Ron and Harry pulled me off of him and told me to stop because I was going to get in trouble, so I did. But then Malfoy got up and said something bad about me, and Ron hit him. And then they started fighting, and that's when it got pretty bad. They were both pretty bloodied up."  
  
"What did he say about you?"  
  
Hermione frowned and then answered. "He called me an 'ugly little Mudblood bitch' to be exact."  
  
Mrs. Granger gasped slightly. While she couldn't quite put the whole thing together, she did understand two of those words completely and did not, in any way, appreciate having them connected with her daughter. "What's a Mudblood?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "It's the most offensive thing you can call a Muggle-born witch or wizard. It means like dirty blood or something," she said, quoting Ron from their Second Year. "It's really stupid, but Malfoy has been brainwashed to think he's superior to everyone else in the world just because his parents are probably cousins or something."  
  
It was obvious that her mother was trying very hard to look worried while biting back a smile at her daughter's latest analogy. "Well, what happened with the fight?"  
  
"Oh!" She scowled slightly. "Professor Snape came up and dragged Ron off of Malfoy. And remember how I told you he hated the three of us?" Her mother nodded. "Well, his favorite student just happens to be Draco Malfoy, so it was doubly bad for Ron and me."  
  
"Did you get in trouble?"  
  
"Well, we got a hundred house points taken off for Gryffindor, so that was pretty bad. But we didn't really get in any other trouble besides that." She paused for a second. "Well, not at school anyway. Mrs. Weasley found out and blessed us out pretty badly. She threatened us with our lives if she got anymore owls."  
  
"She must think of you as one of her own."  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yeah. Well, I'm at her house as much as any of her real children, aren't I? She's always been just like a second mother to me, and she's the closest thing to a mother that Harry has at all. So, yeah, I reckon we're just like honorary Weasleys or something."  
  
Mrs. Granger looked pleased. "Well, I'm glad she yelled at you. You can't just go around getting into fights. It's a wonder you weren't expelled."  
  
Hermione flushed a little and looked down at the table. "I know."  
  
"Well, what happened with the other fight?"  
  
"Oh, it wasn't really a fight. It was just these girls who kept pestering Ron and Harry about taking them to the Halloween Ball. And the boys were being too nice to turn them down, so I basically told them they were wasting their time. And then one of them called me a Mudblood, and then I called her a Slytherin reject. And then she just decided to break my nose with one punch."  
  
"Are you okay?" her mother gasped.  
  
She nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Our nurse healed it up quickly."  
  
Mrs. Granger nodded slowly and then said, "Do people call you that a lot?"  
  
"What? A Mudblood?" Her mother nodded. "I guess so. Malfoy does. The Slytherins do. But most of them are purebloods, and it doesn't really help that I'm Harry Potter's best friend because they all hate him."  
  
"Well, isn't Ron a pureblood? And Harry, too? They don't think like that, do they?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Oh, no. But the Weasleys are a different type of pureblood than the Malfoys. They don't hate Muggles like the Malfoys and the other Slytherins do. And Harry's mum was Muggle-born like me, but his dad was a pureblood. But like I said, the Weasleys aren't the same as the Malfoys, and neither were the Potters. So, it's a completely different story. The Malfoys just hate Muggles and everything having to do with them, so they think that anyone with Muggle blood in them must be inferior and contaminated or something." She shrugged. "But I don't care because they probably really are inbred and can't help it."  
  
Her mother tried to look disapproving but did not succeed. Chuckling softly, she said, "Well, it's good that you have friends who will stand up for you. They seem like nice boys."  
  
"They..." Hermione suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be angry with them. "That's because you don't know them. They're not nice; they're prats. And I hate them both."  
  
Mrs. Granger laughed but went right on. "And they're cute, too."  
  
Hermione groaned and rolled her eyes, knowing fully well where this conversation was headed.  
  
"What?" her mother questioned innocently. "You don't think they're cute?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. "Sure. Whatever." She knew better than to even try and answer any other way.  
  
"Harry has lovely eyes," her mother went on. "Don't you agree?"  
  
Hermione shrugged again. "I guess."  
  
"He's turning out to be very cute."  
  
"He's Harry!" Hermione finally exclaimed, not knowing any other way to get the point across. "I just can't make myself think of him like that."  
  
"Well, you used to be quite taken with him," her mother pointed out through a grin.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "When I was eleven!"  
  
Her mother smiled knowingly and posed the next question. "Well, what about Ron? He's quite handsome, too."  
  
"Mum!" she said desperately, flushing furiously.  
  
Mrs. Granger laughed and nodded. "You fancy him, don't you?"  
  
Hermione's mouth dropped open. "I do not!" she exclaimed at once. "That's..." Crazy? Interesting? Lovely? True? "I don't even know what that is, but it's not true!"  
  
Mrs. Granger held up her hands in defeat. "Alright, alright. Whatever you say, Hermione."  
  
Hermione glared at the woman across from her for a long moment.  
  
Finally, Mrs. Granger stood up and shut the magazine. "Why don't you go make sure that your father hasn't killed the boys, and I'll finish dinner up."  
  
Hermione was still sputtering on about something as she sent another contemptuous look at her mother. Rolling her eyes, she trudged up the back stairs, her face burning the whole time.  
  
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Ron and Harry followed Hermione's father down the hall to the stairs, down the stairs, and down another hall to what was obviously an office of some sort. They glanced at each nervously before entering the office through the door that Mr. Granger was holding open for them.  
  
"Have a seat, boys," he said coolly as he walked around to sit behind a desk covered in paperwork and a laptop.  
  
Harry and Ron timidly took their places in the two chairs that sat opposite of the desk and sat in silence waiting for the older man to start the conversation.  
  
Or the killing- whichever he was planning.  
  
Mr. Granger reached into a drawer of his desk and pulled out a package of cigarettes. He removed one and lit it before holding the package up in offering to the two boys. "Smoke?" he asked calmly.  
  
Harry and Ron both shook their heads and muttered. "No, thanks."  
  
"You don't smoke?" Mr. Granger questioned. Before waiting for an answer, he said, "Good. It's a horrid habit- stains your teeth something rotten." Then he took a long drawl off of the newly-lit cigarette in his hand. He looked up then and said, "I think it's high-time we had a man to man talk. Or man to man to man. Whatever."  
  
Harry glanced nervously at Ron out of the corner of his eye and saw that Ron was looking completely bewildered. He looked much smaller than normal as he slumped down into the leather arm chair he was sitting in.  
  
Mr. Granger was looking quite intimidating. "I don't believe we've ever really had a real conversation, have we? I don't even think I've seen the two of you since you were twelve years old."  
  
Harry hadn't thought about it, but that was true. He hadn't seen Hermione's parents since they'd brought her to Diagon Alley before their second year.  
  
"Of course, you've both changed some since then," Mr. Granger continued. "You've both grown up quite a bit."  
  
Harry didn't know what to say, so he just nodded again.  
  
Mr. Granger raised his eyebrows in a way that just, quite honestly, frightened Harry. "You're both fifteen now, am I correct?"  
  
Nodding again, Harry and Ron again answered in unison. "Yes, sir."  
  
"Are you both aware that I was once a fifteen year old boy?"  
  
It was clear that this was not going to be a friendly little chat. Harry swallowed and nodded for the thousandth time. Almost eerily, he and Ron both said, "Yes, sir," together again.  
  
Mr. Granger took another drag from the cigarette before resting it in an ashtray and leaning onto his elbows to better address the young men in front of him. "I know what goes on in fifteen year old boys' minds," he said evenly. "Especially when it comes to fifteen year old girls." There was a pause in which Harry and Ron each prayed silently for a fire to suddenly light and free them from this sure to be hell. Finally, Mr. Granger asked them another question. "Are you both aware that my daughter is a fifteen year old girl?"  
  
Once again, the unison answer of, "Yes, sir," sounded from the two younger males.  
  
Mr. Granger looked satisfied and nodded slowly before picking the cigarette back up and taking another puff from it. "I just want to make sure that you are both fully aware that if any of those dirty little thoughts are acted upon with my daughter- any at all- I will make your lives a living hell, and you will wish that you were already dead before I take it upon myself to kill you." He raised the cigarette to his lips one final time before putting the light out in what Harry knew was supposed to be a symbol of their own lights being put out.  
  
Needless to say, Mr. Granger's point was quite clear, and Harry made a mental note to never, ever develop any sort of a relationship with Hermione that might result in his death. He glanced over at Ron and saw that his best friend looked as terrified of Hermione's dad as he had of the Acromantula in their second year.  
  
Somehow, he figured that Ron was feeling even more nervous than he was.  
  
Mr. Granger spoke again. "And just so you both know, as Hermione's best friends, I fully expect the two of you to protect her from any other boys who might have thoughts along the same lines as the ones I've just warned you against." He looked at them sternly. "If someone ever hurts my little girl, I will hold the two of you as responsible as I'll hold the idiot that hurt her. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
Crystal.  
  
Harry nodded. "Yes, sir."  
  
Ron followed suit with a delayed nod and, "Yes, sir," of his own.  
  
Mr. Granger smiled ruefully. "Good!" he said triumphantly. "Now that we've gotten that cleared up, how've the two of you been?"  
  
********************************************  
  
"If you ever do anything to Hermione, and I wind up getting killed, I am holding you fully responsible." Harry was looking very seriously at Ron as they climbed the stairs back up to the second landing.  
  
Ron glanced behind them and rolled his eyes. "I wonder if Krum got that same threat?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "Probably." Thinking a moment, though, he shook his head. "Well, maybe not. I bet Mr. Granger didn't walk in to find Krum pinning Hermione to her bed."  
  
Ron suddenly looked outraged. "He better not have!"  
  
Harry rolled his own eyes and decided not to comment. He didn't really need to, though, because at that exact moment, Hermione came bounding up the stairs behind them.  
  
"Hey!" she said quickly when she caught up with them at the top. They both looked at her nervously as though debating whether or not speaking to Hermione would ensue her father's wrath. Hermione looked at them oddly for a moment before saying, "Did my dad hurt you?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No. He just threatened to kill us several times."  
  
Hermione wrinkled her nose worriedly. "I'm sorry," she said honestly.  
  
"Jesus, Hermione!" Ron said suddenly. "What is wrong with him?!"  
  
Hermione frowned. "He's just a little overprotective."  
  
"A little?!" Ron laughed sardonically. "Do you know that if you ever get hurt by anyone- it doesn't matter by whom- Harry and I will be fully responsible?"  
  
"Oh, give him a break," Hermione said briskly. "I'm his only child. He still thinks I'm a little girl."  
  
"But you're not," Ron said evenly.  
  
"And neither is Ginny," Hermione said quite pointedly. "But you would still threaten to kill anyone who might be interested in her, now wouldn't you?"  
  
Ron scowled, defeated, and shrugged.  
  
Harry snickered.  
  
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Well? You all know I love feedback!!!! 


	33. A Trip to the Cinema

A/N: Well, this is one of my shorter chapters, but it was necessary, and I didn't want to squash anything else in there with it. I want to thank everyone who had reviewed so far. You guys are the best!!!  
  
Disclaimer: If I owned the Harry Potter franchise, I would not currently be dredging through pre-law, now would I?  
  
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"Why do you have so many cars?" Ron asked, eyeing the four cars parked in the garage.  
  
Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. I guess my parents just like having options." She pointed to a yellow Mustang on the end. "That one's mine."  
  
Harry and Ron were both surprised that she had her own car, as she never talked of it. But then again, they'd learned quite a bit about Hermione that they didn't previously know during the course of this holiday.  
  
"I didn't know you had a car," Harry said, walking with Ron over to the car in question to study it.  
  
Hermione nodded and followed them. "Yeah, my parents bought it for me last year because they found a really good deal on it."  
  
"Can you drive it?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow at her as he peered through the window.  
  
"Well, not legally," Hermione said obviously. "I'm not old enough. But I learned how to drive when I was thirteen."  
  
Harry, who was usually forbidden to even ride in a car and had certainly never driven one, was rather impressed. Ron, however, shrugged indifferently.  
  
"I know how to fly one of these things," he said with a superior smirk.  
  
Hermione just looked at Ron. Harry almost choked on snorted laughter.  
  
"Um, excuse me?" he said, desperately trying to sound serious. "Can I comment on that?"  
  
Ron shot Harry the most offended of looks, and Hermione instantly started to snicker. Harry just shrugged at Ron and said, "Sorry, mate, but I speak the truth when I say your car flying skills pretty much suck."  
  
Ron had just opened his mouth to respond with no doubt a snide remark when they were interrupted.  
  
"Hermione Granger!"  
  
All three friends looked up to see two girls standing at the end of Hermione's driveway; they were obviously on an afternoon stroll. Harry distinctly heard Hermione groan, but she instantly put on a smile.  
  
"Hey!" she shouted back in what was a much more cheerful voice than the one she normally used. It was clearly quite fake.  
  
The two girls returned the same sort of sickeningly sweet smile and started toward the garage where Ron, Harry, and Hermione were standing.  
  
"What are you doing here?" asked one, a short girl with curly blonde hair.  
  
Hermione shrugged. "You know, Christmas holiday."  
  
Both girls nodded. Then the other one, a slightly taller girl with long black hair and shockingly bright blue eyes, said, "Your hair looks great, Hermione!"  
  
Harry saw Hermione blush slightly as she smiled and said, "Thanks. Yours is getting so long!"  
  
The raven-haired girl nodded. "I know! I've been growing it out since last winter."  
  
"Who are your friends, Hermione?" the blonde one asked, clearly eyeing both boys appreciatively.  
  
Hermione glanced from one to the other and said, "Oh! These are my best friends. Harry and Ron." She motioned to each of them as she spoke their names. And then, turning to the boys in question, she said, "This is Celeste," she pointed to the dark-haired girl, "and this is Gia," she then motioned to the blonde. "I went to primary school with them."  
  
Harry glanced at the girls and was instantly struck with the thought that they were very pretty; glancing at Ron, it seemed he agreed.  
  
Hermione was looking rather anxious.  
  
Gia grinned at them both. "Do you go to St. Mary's, too?"  
  
For a split second, Harry was rather confused. Catching on quickly, he nodded. "Oh, yeah."  
  
"Do you like it?" Celeste had directed the question at Ron.  
  
Ron stuttered just a bit over his response. "Uh, yeah. It's... great."  
  
"So, what are you guys doing?" Gia asked brightly.  
  
Hermione answered. "We were just going to go for a walk."  
  
"Oh, well, we're going to the cinema," Gia said smiling. "Do you guys want to come?"  
  
"Yes!" Ron answered quickly. "I'm dying to see a film!"  
  
Gia and Celeste both looked at him a little oddly but smiled despite themselves. Harry glanced at Hermione and noticed that she was looking at Ron as though she was trying to decide the best Unforgivable Curse to bestow upon him.  
  
He tried not to laugh.  
  
"Great!" Celeste said enthusiastically. "The film starts in twenty minutes. We were just on our way there."  
  
Hermione forced a smile upon her lips and nodded. "Okay. Give us a second to go upstairs and get our money."  
  
Celeste and Gia both nodded, and Harry and Ron followed Hermione back through the garage and into the house. As soon as the door was shut, Hermione rounded on Ron.  
  
"What are you doing?!"  
  
Ron jumped back a bit at her sudden outburst. "What are you talking about?"  
  
"I don't want to go to the cinema with them!" Hermione exclaimed, her brown eyes dancing dangerously. "I don't even like them!"  
  
Ron raised his eyebrows. "Well, it looked like you were all good friends."  
  
"We're not!" Hermione insisted. "They hated me when I was younger! Celeste used to sit behind me when I was eight years old, and every day she used to pull my hair and tie it in knots! Like it wasn't already a horror to brush out anyway!"  
  
Harry and Ron both stifled snickers.  
  
"And once when I was in kindergarten, Gia put a beetle in my milk carton, and I almost drank it!"  
  
They didn't even attempt to stifle their snickers at that.  
  
Hermione glared at them. "I can't believe I have to go watch a film with them!"  
  
Ron tried very hard to stop his snickering. "Well, I'm sorry. I didn't know." He grinned at her. "Besides, I'm sure they've grown up a lot. And I've never even been to the cinema!"  
  
"Neither have I," Harry volunteered.  
  
Hermione huffed up and rolled her eyes. "Fine. But don't agree to do anything else with them."  
  
******************************************************************  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Harry found himself staring around a semi-full theatre and trying to find a spot with five empty seats. Celeste pointed to an empty spot in the middle of the theatre, and the five teenagers made their way to the center of the row and seated themselves.  
  
For some reason, the seating arrangement ended up being Celeste, Ron, Hermione, Harry, Gia. Harry couldn't quite work out how Celeste and Gia had ended up on opposite ends of each other, but he did find it a bit amusing that Hermione had strategically placed herself so that she didn't have to sit next to either of her childhood bullies.  
  
"I've heard this film is really good," Gia whispered excitedly, once they'd all situated themselves comfortably. The movie hadn't started yet.  
  
Harry turned to her and tried to make polite conversation. "Really?"  
  
She nodded. "Yeah, my friend Angie said it's the best she's seen all year. Have you heard anything about it?"  
  
Harry had never even heard of it, but he didn't say this. "I haven't heard too much about it."  
  
Gia smiled. Harry noticed that her green eyes were a sort of softer shade than his own- not really emerald but more of a sea green color. "So, where are you from?"  
  
"Surrey." Harry returned the smile- out of courteous, he supposed.  
  
"I have an uncle there!" she said brightly. "Do you know any Martins?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "Sorry. No."  
  
She shrugged and then changed topics. "How old are you?"  
  
"Fifteen," he answered.  
  
She nodded. "Me, too. Have you known Hermione long?"  
  
"Um, since I was eleven."  
  
"I've known her since kindergarten. We sat at the same lunch table."  
  
Harry forcibly choked down the laughter that was threatening to overtake him. "Really?"  
  
She nodded, glancing across Harry at Hermione who was looking much like a fifth wheel, as Celeste had Ron deeply engaged in conversation as well. Obviously satisfied that Hermione seemed much more interested in what Celeste and Ron were saying than what she and Harry were saying, she leaned in closer to Harry and whispered, "But she was a bit strange back then. Weird things always happened around her for some reason."  
  
"Really?" Harry raised his eyebrows. "What sort of things?"  
  
Gia shrugged. "Well, like someone would be picking on her, and all of a sudden something across the room would just topple over out of nowhere. Or if she ever got angry at someone over something, they'd suddenly find their lunch all down their front." She bit her lip a little in remembrance. "It was just very strange."  
  
Harry tried his best to look bewildered. "That is strange."  
  
Gia nodded. "Yes, but she seems much different now. I guess St. Mary's changed her or something."  
  
Harry glanced over his shoulder at Hermione who was, indeed, staring very determinedly at Ron and Celeste. He turned back to Gia. "She's the smartest person in our year."  
  
Gia rolled her eyes. "Well, that doesn't surprise me one bit. If she ever got below a ninety-eight percent, she would completely freak out. It was like she had the course books memorized."  
  
Harry laughed. "Yeah, that's Hermione. She hasn't changed that much."  
  
Gia looked from Hermione to Harry. "She's not your girlfriend, is she?"  
  
Harry shook his head quickly. "No, we're just friends."  
  
Gia smiled, and Harry noted again what a nice smile it was. "That's good."  
  
Harry was glad for the rapidly dimming lights and the suddenly lit up screen signaling the start of the movie because he could feel himself blush slightly. He sent Gia a half-smile, which she returned, and they both turned to watch the film.  
  
It was interesting. Harry had seen a few movies, of course, but he'd never actually seen one in the cinema because the Dursleys had never deigned to take him along on their own trips to the movies. The film was actually pretty good; it seemed that Angie had been right.  
  
About thirty minutes into the film, Harry glanced at Hermione who seemed a bit upset about something and didn't appear to be enjoying the film as much as she should have. She didn't turn to meet his eye, so he looked past her at Ron who seemed absolutely enthralled by the whole experience. Harry couldn't help but smile when Ron sensed his staring and turned to him. The two boys grinned at each other briefly before turning back to the movie.  
  
Minutes later, Hermione suddenly sat up. "I'm going to get a bottle of water," she whispered. "Do you want anything?"  
  
"Will you get me a soda?" Harry asked. He slipped her some money, and she nodded and turned to Ron, obviously asking him the same question. He gave her some money, too, and asked her if she needed any help. She shook her head rather forcibly and stood up to exit the theatre.  
  
Ron leaned across her empty seat to speak with Harry. "This is cool, isn't it?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah, but Hermione seems pissed about something."  
  
Ron shrugged. "She's probably still mad that she had to come in the first place."  
  
Harry shrugged, too. "I guess so."  
  
They straightened back up, and Harry felt Gia lean into his ear. "I think Celeste likes your friend," she whispered, giggling afterwards.  
  
Harry turned to her. "Really?"  
  
She nodded, a tiny grin covering her lips. "Does he have a girlfriend?"  
  
"Uh," Harry paused for half a second. "No."  
  
Gia's eyes grew a bit wider. "So, Hermione just has two really cute best friends that are both single, and she's not dating either of them? Is she completely mental?"  
  
Harry felt the blush creeping into his cheeks again and wasn't at all sure what to say. Gia just grinned even more and said, "When are you guys going back to school?"  
  
Harry was thankful for a question he knew the answer to. "On January 6th."  
  
"Maybe we can hang out some more before you all have to leave."  
  
Harry nodded, knowing Hermione would never go for it but thinking that it wouldn't be so bad. "Maybe."  
  
At that moment, Hermione returned, balancing two sodas and a bottle of water carefully in her arms. She handed one soda each to Harry and Ron and reseated herself between them.  
  
"Did I miss anything?" she asked, though it appeared she wasn't all that concerned honestly.  
  
Harry, who had not even seen one second of the movie since she'd been gone, shook his head and whispered, "No."  
  
He put the straw in his soda and took a quick sip of it before holding it out to Gia. "Do you want some?"  
  
She smiled and nodded, taking it from him. "Thanks." She took a drink and sat it in the cup holder between them. Then after a moment of watching the movie, she giggled quietly. "I'm completely lost as to what's happening," she admitted.  
  
Harry laughed a little. "Me, too," he whispered.  
  
And then he quite suddenly found Gia's hand in his own.  
  
He looked up at her curiously, but she just grinned and shrugged one shoulder before turning back to the film. She didn't remove her hand.  
  
And Harry didn't remove his own.  
  
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I know this is one of my shorter chapters, but I had to set the scene up for this. Now, before everyone starts whining about Mary Sues, I want to make it clear that Gia will play a very important part in what I know you ALL want to see happen. So, just trust me on this, okay?  
  
Feedback is adored!! 


	34. Will Things Ever Change?

A/N: I'm posting these rather quickly, aren't I? I'll admit that it's because I've had them all written out for quite some time. And I'm extremely anxious to get through them all! Thanks to everyone who left feedback on the last chapter. I know it wasn't my most interesting, but like I said, that chapter was necessary.  
  
Disclaimer: No.  
  
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Later that evening, Harry found himself sitting around the kitchen table with Ron and Hermione. Mr. and Mrs. Granger had a charity event in London scheduled, and they'd left the teens with several takeout menus and more than enough money for dinner. As a result, the kitchen table was currently covered with pizza boxes, Chinese takeout containers, and a few different Mexican entrees. Hermione had been in a rather foul mood since they'd returned from the cinema, and she appeared to be drowning her anger in food.  
  
In other words, she was eating more than either of the boys had ever seen her do.  
  
She looked across the table at Ron's plate and saw the last slice of mushroom pizza, already half-eaten. "Are you going to finish that?"  
  
Ron glanced down at his plate and then back up at Hermione. "Yes." Then he raised an eyebrow. "You don't want it anyway- this stuff will go straight to your hips."  
  
Harry immediately knew that Ron had said the worst possible thing imaginable, but he nevertheless had to fight down the urge to snicker as Hermione looked up in shock.  
  
Her mouth was halfway open as she sat in silence for a long moment. "I cannot believe you just called me fat to my face," she finally sputtered.  
  
Ron looked just as shocked by her statement as she had been by his. He wrinkled up his forehead and turned to Harry. "Did I just call her fat?"  
  
Harry, not really wanting to get involved, suddenly became quite interested in his own dinner.  
  
Hermione's shocked look turned into a glare. "Could you talk to me like I'm actually here instead of in the third person?"  
  
Ron turned his attention back to the girl in question and raised his own voice to match hers. "Fine! Did I just call YOU fat?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"I did not!" Ron defended immediately. "I was trying to prevent that from happening!"  
  
"Prevent it from happening?!" Hermione looked as if she could hardly believe he was being so stupid. Harry himself could hardly believe it, actually...  
  
"Yes!" Ron said determinedly. "Because I know how girls are. You'd just whine and whine and whine if you gained any weight. You should hear Ginny if she even gains like an ounce!"  
  
Hermione still didn't give up the bewildered look. "You don't know anything about girls!"  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "If you want it then take it." He pushed the plate containing the half slice of pizza across the table.  
  
Hermione didn't even look down before pushing it straight back at him. "I don't want it."  
  
"You asked for it." He slid it right back.  
  
"I don't want it," she stated with a tight glare as she slid it back to him.  
  
Ron returned a glare of his own before pushing it again. "Just eat the damn pizza."  
  
"No!" She shoved it toward him.  
  
"Eat it!" The plate went flying again.  
  
"No!" Hermione then shoved the pizza so hard that it flew off the edge of the table and landed in Ron's lap. She looked quite satisfied as she stood up and glared at him. "I'm going to take a shower, and then I'm going to bed."  
  
Harry had been struggling not to laugh the entire time, and the moment Hermione had disappeared up the stairs leaving Ron with a befuddled expression and a lapful of pizza, he finally gave in and broke down into snickers. Ron glared at him shortly before reaching down and picking the pizza off of him.  
  
"What is her problem?" he asked ruefully as he wiped his hands on a paper towel and attempted to clean off his jeans a little.  
  
Harry shrugged and took a bite of fried rice out of one of the Chinese containers. "You called her fat."  
  
Ron looked outraged. "I did not!"  
  
Harry nodded briefly. "Yeah, you did. To a girl, that's getting called fat."  
  
"How the hell do you know?"  
  
Harry shrugged again. "I dunno. I just know that you called her fat."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "You don't know."  
  
Harry was about to reply again, but the telephone took to ringing at that exact moment. He glanced across the table at Ron, who was now engaged in a slice of plain cheese pizza. The phone range two more times before Hermione's annoyed voice floated down the stairs. "Are you going to answer that?"  
  
Ron wrinkled his nose and called back bitterly, "It's not our house."  
  
There was a very audible groan heard from upstairs before feet could be heard hurrying down the level and into the kitchen. Harry and Ron both looked up as Hermione flew through the kitchen and into the hallway. She was obviously just getting ready for her shower because she'd taken her hair down, and she was wearing a short lilac bathrobe.  
  
Harry glanced at Ron who was still staring at the doorway through which Hermione had just disappeared. He looked quite deep in thought about something, and as if sensing Harry's gaze on him, he met his best friend's eyes blushing.  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. "What?"  
  
Ron didn't say anything for a second before breaking out into a very slight grin. "Do you think she's naked under that robe?"  
  
Harry definitely hadn't been expecting that, and he instantly burst into laughter. Ron, too, laughed, but when Hermione appeared again seconds later, Harry cursed himself for letting his eyes take a quick trip down and then up her body; he found that imagining Ron's statement was just a little too easy than he would have liked.  
  
Hermione looked at him weirdly before rolling her eyes and self-consciously pulling her robe tighter around her, as if she could sense what the boys were thinking. Of course, by doing that, she didn't really help the situation or calm their thoughts too much at all. She looked pointedly at Harry, "It's Gia."  
  
Harry was quite shocked. Finally shaking the image Ron had put in his head, he said, "For me?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes again. "No, for me," she said bitterly. "She thought we should start over and wanted to know if I would join her for tea and milk." She turned a sharp glare in Ron's direction. "Of course, I'm sure any bugs she would have to offer me this time would probably go straight to my hips."  
  
Harry wanted to laugh so badly that it hurt to keep a straight face. Ron made his own face at Hermione and then, as if self-satisfied, said, "Yes, they probably would."  
  
Hermione looked ready to murder him. Instead, she turned rather abruptly to Harry. "Are you going to get the phone or what?"  
  
Harry jumped at her sharp tone. He pushed his chair back, muttering something along the lines of, "Don't take it out on me if you're pissed at Ron."  
  
Hermione glared after him for a brief second before rolling her eyes yet again and stomping back up the stairs. Harry shook his head, knowing she'd get over it soon enough, and went into the hallway where the phone was located.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Harry! Hi, it's Gia!" She sounded far too excited, but Harry was somehow flattered.  
  
"Hey. How are you?"  
  
"I'm good," she answered quickly. "Look, I know you're visiting with Hermione's family or whatever, but I really had a lot of fun today. And if you want to hang out again, I'd really enjoy it." She said all of this very confidently, and Harry was strangely impressed that she was so comfortable making the offer.  
  
Not really knowing what else to say, he shrugged. Immediately realizing that she couldn't see him, he said, "Yeah, sure. That'd be great."  
  
He could literally hear her smile through the phone. "Great! How about tomorrow?"  
  
Well, it was short notice, but he really had enjoyed himself as well. He'd secretly been hoping that she'd want to go out and do something else; he'd just been terrified of asking. Luckily for him, all he had to do was accept an offer. "Tomorrow's fine," he answered, trying his very best to sound casual.  
  
Gia laughed, though he didn't know why. "Well, good. I'll come by Hermione's house after lunch, and then we can decide what to do. Is that okay?"  
  
"Yeah, that's fine." He hoped he didn't sound too stupid; this was a rather awkward situation for him to be in, and he was trying desperately to act as normal as possible.  
  
"Well, then I guess I'll see you then," she answered brightly.  
  
Harry nodded, knowing that she still couldn't see him. "Yeah, tomorrow."  
  
"Have a good night," she answered sweetly.  
  
Harry grinned. "Yeah, you, too."  
  
"Bye, Harry."  
  
"Bye."  
  
Harry hung up the receiver and stood in the hallway for a moment reflecting on the telephone conversation. Was it going to be a date? Is that what she would think it was? Is that what he wanted her to think it was? Harry shook himself of the thoughts and decided to ponder them later. He went back into the kitchen and settled himself across from Ron.  
  
"What did Gia want?" Ron asked through a mouthful of pizza.  
  
Harry couldn't help the blush that crept across his cheeks. He really had been spending too much time with the Weasleys. "She wanted to know if I wanted to hang out tomorrow."  
  
Ron smirked. "Oh, she did? And what did you say?"  
  
Harry busied himself with his food once again. As nonchalantly as possible, he said, "I told her okay."  
  
Ron was still smirking slyly. "Well, then that's good, right?"  
  
Harry shrugged, pretending to be noncommittal about the situation. "I guess so." Deciding to change the subject, he said, "So, what did you think of Celeste?"  
  
Ron shrugged again but then smiled slyly. "Obviously not as much as you thought of Gia."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, feeling his cheeks heat up again.  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "Do you think I didn't see you holding her hand through the whole film?"  
  
Fighting the blush didn't work. Harry looked down at his plate. "Why didn't you say anything before?"  
  
"I was waiting to see if you would tell me. I see now that you weren't planning on it."  
  
"I was," Harry said, looking back up. "I just hadn't gotten around to it yet..."  
  
"Right," Ron said unconvincingly. Then he smiled. "Do you like her?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe."  
  
"What do you mean you don't know?" Ron asked with a raised eyebrow. "How can you not know?"  
  
Harry didn't point out that Ron still didn't know whether or not he liked Hermione. Instead, he just shrugged again. "Well, I barely know her."  
  
"She's pretty," Ron said coaxingly.  
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah, she is."  
  
"And she seemed pretty cool."  
  
Harry nodded again. "Yeah, she did."  
  
Ron stared silently at the dark-haired boy in front of him for a moment. "So, wouldn't you put all of that together and come up with the fact that you like her?"  
  
Harry sighed. "Okay. I guess I like her."  
  
"In the same way you like Cho?" Ron was looking curiously across the table.  
  
Harry pondered this for a moment. He liked Cho a lot. He had recently started thinking about Ginny Weasley a little differently than he'd been doing previously, though he certainly didn't say this to Ron. And now here was a new girl who he liked, too. Confusing? Yes. He was at least thankful that he didn't have any sort of feelings for Hermione, too- other than liking to look up her skirt and shamefully imagining what she looked like under her bathrobe, of course.  
  
Oh, Jesus. Why didn't anyone tell him that being fifteen years old was a hell all of its own?  
  
He finally answered Ron's question. "I don't know. I have to know more about Gia before I decide how much I like her."  
  
Ron shrugged. "Fair enough."  
  
"Well, what about Celeste?" Harry asked, raising his own eyebrows. "Gia told me that she likes you."  
  
Ron blushed a little. "She's kind of annoying. She kept talking to me all through the film, and it's not like I wasn't already distracted enough by the fact that you were holding hands with Gia and the fact that Hermione kept sighing loudly and shifting positions like she was furious at the world. I don't even know what happened at the end of that movie."  
  
Harry laughed. "Neither do I."  
  
Ron laughed, too. "I mean, Celeste is pretty, but she's sort of ditzy. She reminds me of Lavender."  
  
"That bad, huh?"  
  
"Yeah," Ron said seriously. "Give her some blonde hair, and she could be called Violet Brown."  
  
Harry snorted with laughter. "So, you don't want to see her again?"  
  
"I dunno. Not really," Ron answered truthfully. "It wouldn't hurt my feelings if she didn't call."  
  
"It was funny what they did to Hermione when she was younger, though, wasn't it?"  
  
Ron laughed. "Yeah. But she probably deserved it."  
  
Harry snickered. "Remember how she was when we first met her?"  
  
Groaning, Ron rolled his eyes. Then he put on a high-pitched and rather accurate impression of eleven year old Hermione. "Don't you care about Gryffindor at all, do you only care about yourselves? I don't want Slytherin to win the House Cup, and you'll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells."  
  
Harry burst into laughter, but stopped abruptly when another voice sounded from the entrance to the kitchen. "Yeah, and you're lucky you didn't. You were both really stupid that night, and you almost got us killed."  
  
Hermione had come back downstairs, now fresh from the shower. She was dressed in pajamas and no longer in her bathrobe (Harry couldn't work out whether this was a good thing or not), and her wet hair was piled on top of her head and secured with a silver clip. She walked to the table and sat back down.  
  
"Well, obviously the shower calmed your moodiness," Ron said with a small smirk.  
  
Hermione ignored him and addressed Harry. "What did Gia want?"  
  
"Harry's going on a date with her," Ron supplied proudly.  
  
Harry blushed and sent his friend a look of slight contempt. "It's not a date."  
  
"No?" Ron asked with a grin. "What would you call it then?"  
  
Harry shrugged one shoulder.  
  
Hermione looked quite disgusted. "Harry..." She shook her head, flabbergasted. "I don't think you could possibly have worse taste in dates! First Parvati, then Lavender, and now Gia Martin?! What is the matter with you?"  
  
Harry wasn't sure how to react. Luckily, Ron decided to react for him.  
  
"Oh, lay off, Hermione. You're the one who dated Viktor Krum."  
  
Okay, so maybe it wasn't quite so lucky.  
  
A thick silence surrounded them as Harry tried very hard to Disapparate from the room with no knowledge of how to do so. Ron obviously realized what he said and was looking quite sheepish. And Hermione simply stared at him for a long moment.  
  
She didn't say a word as she stood up and walked back up the stairs. They heard her bedroom door shut, and Ron immediately put his forehead in his hands.  
  
It was Harry who spoke first. "Well, that was stupid."  
  
Ron raised his hands just enough to look at Harry. "Thanks," he said bitterly. "I didn't realize that."  
  
Harry sighed, not particularly wanting to send Ron up to Hermione's room but knowing that if they didn't sort this out now that the rest of the holiday would be hell. "You should apologize."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes at the suggestion. "I can't just apologize."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because I've only apologized to her about something once in my entire life, and I'm not about to go making a habit of it." Ron said all of this as thought it were the most obvious thing in the world.  
  
Harry, not quite believing he was saying this said, "Well, you should start making a habit of it. You two would probably get a lot further with each other if you weren't both so thick-headed."  
  
Ron looked up blushing. "Shut up, Harry."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine. Don't apologize. But you know how she's going to be if you don't. Do you really want to spend three weeks here with her in bad mood?"  
  
Ron scowled, knowing that Harry was right. "Oh, fine, I'll apologize." He stood up and then clarified his actions. "But only because I don't want her to be all pissy for the whole holiday."  
  
Harry shrugged, accepting Ron's answer mainly because he didn't want to dwell on the subject any longer than necessary. Without another word, Ron trudged up the stairs and down the long hallway to Hermione's closed bedroom door. The light was on, and he carefully raised his hand to knock gently on the wood. There was no answer from inside. He knocked again and this time tried calling to her.  
  
"Hermione, it's me."  
  
"Go away."  
  
Okay, so maybe that wasn't what he wanted to hear. He sighed, rolling his eyes, and tried talking to her again. "Will you just open the door?"  
  
"No." Her answer was sharp and non-hesitant. "Leave me alone."  
  
Drastic times called for drastic measures. Ron reached for his wand and called loudly through the door. "Fine. I'll just let myself in." He pointed the wand at the knob and clearly said, "Alohomora!" The door unlocked instantly, and Ron reached for the handle, turning it to reveal a very outraged looking Hermione.  
  
"How dare you break into my room!"  
  
"I didn't break in," Ron said defensively. "If you didn't want me to use that spell, then you should never have taught it to me." Perfect- blame his actions on her; that was so typical of them.  
  
Hermione glared at him dangerously. "Get out."  
  
"No," Ron answered immediately. "I want to talk to you."  
  
"Well, I don't want to talk to you!" she said loudly. And for the first time, Ron noticed that her eyes were red and puffy while the rest of her face was very pale.  
  
"Hermione, why are you crying?"  
  
She turned away from him instantly, reaching up to rub at her eyes with the heels of her hands. "I'm not," she said coldly.  
  
Ron might not have had the best grades in the Fifth Year, but he wasn't stupid. "Yes, you are. Now, why are you crying?"  
  
"I don't know!" she answered a bit shrilly. "Just go away."  
  
Ron was quiet for a long moment and almost considered following her orders. But then he remembered what Harry had said about the rest of the holiday being hell if she was in a bad mood. And, of course, there was that huge, overwhelming part of him that couldn't stand to see her in tears. "Hermione, I'm sorry." He hadn't meant to just come out and apologize like that, but he wasn't sorry afterwards- best to just get it all out there, right?  
  
She didn't turn to look at him; she simply shook her head. Ron watched her hair, now down and curly from the water, shake from behind. "Just please leave me alone," she said quietly.  
  
Ron sighed; he had no idea what to do. So, he did the first thing that came to his mind; he crossed the room and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. He watched as she jumped at his touch, and he felt her skin tense up underneath his hand. There was something amazingly cool about it, but he didn't dwell on this. In a quiet voice of his own, he tried again. "I really am sorry, Hermione."  
  
At this, she turned to him, shrugging off his hand and causing him to take an unconscious step backwards away from her. "What are you sorry for, Ron?" she challenged. "You can't just come in here and apologize and have no idea what you're apologizing for."  
  
Ron thought about this for a moment but smartly decided that taking too long would not be a good thing. "I'm sorry that I brought up that idiot." Hermione looked away, and he hurried to finish up. "But, believe me, Hermione. You're much better off without him. He didn't deserve you at all. He couldn't even say your name!"  
  
Hermione's face softened a bit, but she didn't say anything. Ron rightly figured that he wasn't done apologizing.  
  
Sighing softly, he said, "And I'm sorry that you think I called you fat. But I swear I didn't mean it like that." She looked at him for an explanation. "You are not fat, Hermione, and you never have been. Really, I swear. You're like the perfect size." They both blushed, but Ron tried very hard to pretend as if what he'd just said was perfectly normal. He went right on with, "It's just that sometimes I forget you're a girl."  
  
Hermione's redness went from complimented to anger in a flat second. She turned a disbelieving glare at him, and Ron instantly winced when he realized what he'd said.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "You really know how to make a situation better, don't you?" The sarcasm was not missed at all.  
  
Ron immediately held up his hands in a somewhat defense. "Wait! That's not what I meant- it came out all wrong!" He took a deep breath as he chose his next words carefully. "I know you're a girl. Trust me." If she only knew... "But you're so different from all the other girls I know that sometimes I forget that you're sensitive about the same things that they are." She didn't look convinced, so he kept going. "All the other girls are so superficial and narcissistic, and you're just not. You're just..." he struggled with word choice. "You're just above that." Her expression softened for the second time. "And sometimes it's just hard to know what you'll take serious, and when you'll know that I'm just joking." He swallowed and glanced down at the floor. "And I guess I say things that come out wrong, and sometimes you just don't get them the way I meant them. But... But it's not like we can help that, you know? Because you're a girl, and I'm... a guy. And we just..." he sighed softly, "think differently is all."  
  
There was a long moment of silence in which Ron didn't dare look at Hermione. His cheeks were already burning bright red, and he was positive that if he looked at her that he would catch himself on fire. He just prayed silently that she would understand.  
  
Because, deep down, he really was sorry.  
  
Finally, after what seemed like several eternities, Hermione sighed softly, and Ron finally worked up enough courage to look in her direction. She met his eyes, and he was pleased to see her face breaking out into a soft smile. He let his own grimace, which he wasn't aware he'd been wearing, soften, and he smiled back at her.  
  
She shook her head a little. "Why can't you always talk like that?" she asked quietly.  
  
Ron shrugged sheepishly. "Because then people might know I was really nice," he answered jokingly.  
  
Hermione laughed. Then she shook her head again. "I don't know why some things upset me so much, and others don't."  
  
Ron, going with the whole joking them, shrugged indifferently. "It's the estrogen. You can't help it."  
  
Hermione actually snorted with laughter. "And just what do you know about estrogen, Ron?"  
  
He tried to look offended. "Hey! I have a mother and a sister, don't forget."  
  
Hermione smirked. "Right."  
  
"I'm an expert on women."  
  
She rolled her eyes and repeated her earlier statement. "Right."  
  
"Look, now," he said importantly. "Don't go miscounting my abilities or my knowledge. I happen to be the favorite of both the women in my household."  
  
Hermione giggled. "I honestly think your mother would choose Percy, and I'm pretty sure Ginny would choose the twins."  
  
Ron tried to look outraged. Then he grinned and shook his own head. "Nah, Mum would choose Bill, and Ginny would choose Charlie. She only likes the twins now because they give her an excuse to be bad- Charlie's the one who always brings her all kinds of cool presents from Romania."  
  
Hermione laughed and patted him sympathetically on the arm. "Ah, well. You still have the new baby, right? Maybe you can brainwash her."  
  
"Him," Ron corrected instantly. Then he cocked his head to the side as if in some sort of deep thought. "You know what? I don't think Mum would choose Bill after all. She'd probably choose Harry."  
  
Hermione raised a hand to her mouth and giggled behind it. "You're probably right." Then she snickered some more before muttering, "Ginny probably would, too."  
  
Ron looked up instantly but then rolled his eyes and joking said, "Just shut up, okay?"  
  
Hermione giggled again and shrugged. "Sorry."  
  
Ron grinned at her for a long moment before finally saying, "So, do you officially forgive me for being a prat?"  
  
Hermione pursed her lips and sighed dejectedly. "This time."  
  
Ron smiled and opened up his arms in offering. "Friends?"  
  
She reached up and wrapped herself in the offered hug. "Friends."  
  
The joking stopped the moment the embrace started. They were both shocked at how different it felt from all the previous hugs they'd shared. This one was on a deeper level than just friendship, and they both knew it. Hermione closed her eyes against Ron's shoulder and tried very hard to imagine that this hug was openly on that deeper level and not hidden and disguised as a peace offering.  
  
Ron glanced down at the top of her head for a brief moment and caught a whiff of her newly shampooed and conditioned hair. It was the same lemony- coconutty smell that he'd noticed the night she'd been crying in the girls' bathroom before the Halloween Ball. He had the strangest feeling that he could smell her hair for the rest of his life and never tire of it.  
  
He also felt like he could just hold her like this, too, and never tired of it.  
  
This thought was terrifying and exhilarating all the same time. This was Hermione. Bossy, know-it-all Hermione. The very same Hermione who he had recently admitted to himself that he liked as a whole lot more than just a friend.  
  
And being in this close of a proximity with her did not calm that desire that he'd been aware of for some time now. He loved to fight with her, but he would love to do so much more...  
  
Knowing that he wasn't anywhere close to taking that next step, though, he settled for letting her rest against his shoulder. Taking a somewhat more daring of approach, he carefully let one of his hands slide down the curve her back; he could feel her spine through her pajama shirt as his fingertips glided gently lower.  
  
She shivered.  
  
Ron closed his eyes as she did this and felt his breath catch in his throat. There was something, really something, about being able to make Hermione Granger shiver. Letting that hand rest against the small of her lower back, he carefully raised his other hand to her hair. He fingered a damp curl, knowing that she would have it all straightened back out by tomorrow, and wrapped it around his finger. He unwound it, let it go, and felt it spring back into place.  
  
He missed her curls.  
  
Hermione bit down on her lower lip as she felt his fingers playing in her hair. She wanted this- she wanted this so badly that it almost hurt. She wanted him. She wanted him to tell her that it wasn't one-sided and that he felt it, too.  
  
But she also knew that this wasn't the right time.  
  
Things were still too new, and she didn't want to spoil it. So, she simply relaxed into his embrace, feeling content and anxious, peaceful and nervous all at the same time.  
  
It was wonderful.  
  
Ron felt her relaxing and bit back the sigh he was afraid would sound far too girlish. Not trusting himself to deny his urges for too much longer, he bent his head and quietly whispered into her ear. "We should probably go to bed. It's really late."  
  
Hermione knew he was telling the truth. But, not wanting to let go just yet, she tightened her arms around his neck a bit and brought his head closer to her mouth. Whispering as close to his ear as possible, she said, "Thank you for coming up here after me."  
  
As close to his ear as possible had turned out to be his neck, and Ron couldn't fight his own shiver as it shot down his spine. Her breath was shockingly hot on his skin, and her words were so completely genuine that he was sure he was going to die if something didn't happen soon.  
  
Knowing that it was the right thing to do, he carefully pulled out of her embrace and took a single step backwards. "I'll see you in the morning."  
  
Hermione smiled sadly and nodded, not sure that she wanted him to leave at all. "Okay," she said quietly.  
  
Ron just stared at her for a long moment before nodding his own head slightly. "Goodnight." Without another word, he opened her bedroom door and left, shutting it behind him.  
  
Hermione looked at the closed door and let out what she could only rightfully describe as a whimper. Then, knowing he couldn't hear her, she whispered, "Goodnight."  
  
On the other side of the door, Ron had leaned against the closed door and shut his eyes.  
  
Were things ever going to change?  
  
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Ah, ha! And so the story evolves and the title takes precedent! I know many of you are probably throwing various shoes at your computer screen, but please just trust that things all happen for a reason.  
  
Please leave feedback!!! 


	35. A Time and a Place for Everything

A/N: Wow, everyone really liked the last chapter. I'm thrilled!  
  
Disclaimer: No, no, no...  
  
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A knock on the front door drew Hermione's attention at once. She groaned and rolled her eyes slightly. Five days into vacation, and this was the fourth time Harry was leaving with Gia. Apparently, they were getting on quite well, though she couldn't imagine why. They had absolutely nothing in common as far as she could see. Hermione was yet to work out exactly how Harry and Gia were actually happening.  
  
She took her time getting to the front door, not caring at all that she was making Gia Martin wait in the cold December air. After all, Gia was the very one who had stolen Hermione's winter coat from her cubby at the age of seven, forcing Hermione to wait outside in the snow for her mother on an afternoon that just happened to have the Grangers running over an hour late at the office. She smiled to herself as she crossed the living room as slowly as possible.  
  
When she finally reached the door, she opened it and put on her best fake smile. Gia was literally shivering as she returned the smile. "Hi, Hermione. How are you?"  
  
Hermione smiled and politely held the door open for Gia to enter. "I'm good. How are you?"  
  
Gia walked into the living room and took off her hat, shaking out her blonde curls as she did so. "I'm great." She glanced around. "Is Harry here?"  
  
Hermione was going to kill the prat. "No, he and Ron ran out to the store to get some junk food, but they should be back soon." They should have been back thirty minutes ago, but Hermione wasn't going to dwell on this. She was simply working out in her mind the best way to make 'Avada Kedavra' work on them without getting cited for underage magic use.  
  
However, Gia didn't seem to be nearly as upset by this as Hermione was. She simply smiled brightly and removed her coat, taking it upon herself to drape it across an armchair and settle down onto the couch. "Well, good then," she said briskly. "You and I can catch up."  
  
Hermione would have liked just as well to claw her own eyeballs out, but she returned her own fake little grin and reluctantly joined Gia on the sofa.  
  
"So, I haven't seen you in forever," Gia said honestly. "I see your parents every now and then, but I don't think I've seen you in like four years."  
  
She was right. Hermione always did her very best to avoid her old classmates whenever she was at home. She nodded, "Yeah, it has been awhile."  
  
"Don't you come home on summer holidays or anything?"  
  
Hermione nodded again. "Yeah. But sometimes I travel, and I usually end up staying with Ron's family for a few weeks. So, I'm really not here for that long."  
  
Gia was grinning quite wickedly. "So, what is with you and Ron anyway?"  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow, outright shocked that Gia had the audacity to ask that question. She didn't even know her! Doing her very best to keep her cool, Hermione pretended to be lost. "What are you talking about?"  
  
Gia rolled her green eyes slightly. "Please, Hermione. I don't even know him that well, and I can already tell that you two are crazy over each other. I mean, he turned down CELESTE to spend time with you. Do you realize that no one has ever turned down Celeste? Ever?"  
  
Hermione bit back a grin at the memory of Ron on the phone (Harry had coached him on how to use it properly) the day after they'd gone to the cinema. Celeste had called to ask if he wanted to join her with Harry and Gia on some sort of double date. Ron had immediately started coughing loudly, claiming that Hermione had been sick for quite some time and she must have given it to him.  
  
Straightening up, Hermione said, "He was sick."  
  
Gia just raised an eyebrow. "You don't have to lie; Harry told me the truth."  
  
Okay, so Harry was definitely going to die... Struggling over an answer that sounded halfway normal, Hermione sighed. "Well, he just didn't want to hurt her feelings."  
  
Rolling her eyes, Gia said, "I still don't understand why you haven't dated either of them yet anyway."  
  
"Because they're my best friends." It was the same old defense that she'd been giving to everyone for the past five years. She was quite sick of hearing herself say those words.  
  
"How did you manage to make two male best friends at boarding school anyway? Don't you have any female roommates or anything?"  
  
A Mountain Troll fluttered into her mind, but she quickly dismissed the thought, knowing that she was definitely not about to let Gia in on that little secret. Of course, knowing that Harry apparently now had quite a big mouth, she wouldn't have been too surprised if Gia already knew. "I have roommates," she answered simply. "But they're a lot different than me, and I don't get along with them as well as I do with Harry and Ron."  
  
"Don't you have any girlfriends at all then?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. "Ron's got a sister that I'm pretty close with. But she's in the year below us, so I don't get to spend a lot of time with her."  
  
Gia smiled. "Well, I know you're never really around, but I'd like us to be friends again."  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow. Again?  
  
Gia laughed, as if she knew what Hermione was thinking. "Okay, so we weren't that good of friends before. But I'd really like us to be now."  
  
Surprisingly, she sounded completely genuine.  
  
Gia went right on. "Hermione, I really like Harry. A lot." She smiled fondly. "And I know that I haven't know him for that long, but I would like to think that... that he likes me back as much as I do him."  
  
Hermione sighed a bit dejectedly. "I think he does."  
  
The smile returned to Gia's face and lit up her eyes. "Really?"  
  
Hermione nodded. It was true; Harry did appear to be quite fond of her old schoolmate. "Yeah, I think so."  
  
Gia seemed more than thrilled with the news. "I don't even know how to explain it, but I just really, really like him. He's just not like any of the guys at school, you know? He's just deeper. Or something- I don't know. But I really like it."  
  
Harry was probably as far different from the guys at Gia's school as it was possible to be. Hermione remembered them all as being rambunctious and loud and annoying.  
  
More like Ron than like Harry.  
  
"He is different," Hermione admitted. "He's been through a lot in his life."  
  
Gia's smile faded, and she looked incredibly serious. "Like what?"  
  
Hermione shrugged slightly. "It's not really my place."  
  
Gia nodded understandingly. "Yeah, okay. But Hermione, could we please at least try to be some sort of friends? I mean, I've already told you how much I like Harry, and you're his best friend. So, I just think it would make things a lot easier."  
  
Hermione studied the other girl for a moment. "You do realize that Harry is going back to school in two weeks, right? And when we're not in school, he doesn't live anywhere close to here."  
  
"I know," she said, nodding. "But... Well, we'll just see what happens."  
  
Before Hermione could say anything else, the front door opened again, and Ron and Harry came in. Gia flashed Hermione a secret look that Hermione interpreted to be a plead for silence on her part. Nodding slightly, Hermione looked away.  
  
Gia stood up. "Hey," she said sweetly.  
  
Harry smiled at her, his face showing something that it rarely showed these days. Happiness.  
  
"Sorry I'm late," he apologized, his cheeks turning the slightest of pink shades. "We got lost."  
  
Hermione sent Ron a confused look. He grinned back at her and shrugged- obviously, it was a lie. They didn't get lost; they just got caught up in the aisles and aisles of crisps and soda and sweets at the supermarket.  
  
"That's okay," Gia said, still smiling. "Do you need a minute, or are you ready?"  
  
Harry set his bag on the coffee table in front of the sofa. "No, I'm ready now if you are."  
  
She grinned. "Yeah, cool."  
  
He sent her another sheepish smile, and they left, throwing goodbyes over their shoulders at Ron and Hermione.  
  
Hermione watched the door close and shook her head to herself. It wasn't until she felt fingers jabbing into her sides that she yelped and spun around. Ron was laughing from behind her. "Constant vigilance, 'Mione," he scolded. "You shouldn't just drift away like that."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and reached up to swat him across the room. "Don't do that! You could have given me a heart attack."  
  
"I hardly think it was that serious. Besides, like I said- Constant Vigilance!"  
  
She rolled her eyes again. "You're going to need constant vigilance because I'm going to kill you and Harry for leaving me alone with Gia."  
  
Ron snorted as he sat down on the sofa and opened Harry's bag, pulling out a chocolate Mars bar. He unwrapped it and broke it in half, holding up the slightly smaller piece to her. Hermione took it roughly and dropped onto the couch beside him. Through a mouthful of chocolate, he said, "You must really hate her, huh?"  
  
Hermione took a bite of her own piece. "I don't hate her. She's just not my favorite person. What does Harry see in her anyway?"  
  
"Look at her." Ron raised an eyebrow knowingly, and Hermione glared at him.  
  
"Oh, I forgot. You like those ditzy blonde types."  
  
Ron scowled slightly. "I don't just like ditzy blondes," he said quietly. "Sometimes I like the exact opposite of ditzy blonde..." His face was incredibly red, and Hermione somehow wasn't sure if she was supposed to have even heard that.  
  
Blushing a little herself, she brushed over his last statement as if it hadn't been said. "Well, I know she's pretty. But that can't be the only reason he likes her."  
  
Ron recovered from his momentary blush and cleared his throat slightly. "She's the first girl who's ever liked him."  
  
"That's not true," Hermione said briskly. "Loads of girls like him. Your own sister likes him."  
  
The scowl returned for a moment, but he didn't comment. "I mean, she's the first girl who's ever liked him without knowing who he is. She's the first girl who's ever liked him because of who he is and not because his name is Harry Potter. Get it?"  
  
And suddenly, it all made sense. "She's the first girl who hasn't known he was famous..."  
  
"Exactly." Ron finished off his piece of the chocolate. "You know, these Muggle sweets aren't half bad."  
  
Hermione took her last bite and leaned forward to look into the paper bag in front of her. She rolled her eyes at all the junk food. "My parents will freak if they see this."  
  
Ron laughed and lifted the bag onto his lap. He reached in and pulled out a bag of barbecue flavored crisps. "Well, we'll just eat it all before they get home." He opened the bag and held it out to her.  
  
Hermione laughed and shook her head. "Those things make your breath smell horrible."  
  
Ron shrugged. "So?" He popped one into his mouth. "Are you planning on kissing somebody or something?"  
  
She turned her head sharply and looked at him. To her surprise, he wasn't blushing, and she found that she wasn't, either. They held each other's eyes for a long moment, almost daringly, and then she looked down at the bag and took a single crisp. Looking back up, she shrugged a single shoulder and said as nonchalantly as possible, "Wouldn't you like to know?"  
  
Ron looked at her for a second before raising a single eyebrow and saying, "Yeah, I would, actually."  
  
It was weird. They were flirting. They were flirting with each other, and they both knew it. And neither of them was stopping.  
  
Placing the still uneaten crisp into her mouth, she smiled airily and said, "Well, maybe someday I'll let you know."  
  
Ron stared at her; he was giving her a rather unexplainable look, and she reveled in it. Quietly, he said, "Yeah. Maybe."  
  
They stared at each other for a long, long moment. Finally, Hermione smiled and glanced back into the paper bag. "You should probably save some of this for Harry. I expect he'd be pretty mad if it was all gone when he got back."  
  
Ron shrugged. "Who cares? I'm sure Gia's got plenty for him to eat."  
  
There was a stunned silence as they both realized how incredibly crude that statement sounded.  
  
Especially to two fifteen year old minds.  
  
They looked at each other, both shocked. Ron turned bright red. "I didn't mean it like that! I meant food!"  
  
Hermione burst into a fit full of giggles all at once. She, too, was now a vivid crimson color, and her body was shaking as she tried terribly to get her laughing under control. It was of no use, though, and things weren't helped when Ron, obviously quite shocked that Hermione had found his mistake humorous of all things, collapsed into laughter with her.  
  
"Hermione, stop!" he managed through laughter. "It wasn't even that funny!"  
  
Hermione had her face pressed into her lap and was still convulsing with giggles. "I think I'm gonna pee in my pants!"  
  
Ron laughed even louder as he looked at her dangerously. "Really?" And with that, he launched into a full out tickling attack that had Hermione scrambling halfway over the back of the couch.  
  
"Stop!" she shrieked as he held her and continued to tickle her mercilessly. "I'll pee on you! I swear I will!" She kicked her leg out, and Ron let go just in time.  
  
He jumped back and looked at her with a grinning incredulous look. "Hey! Watch it!"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes quickly and finished her task of climbing over the back of the sofa before running as quickly as Ron had ever seen her run in the direction of the downstairs bathroom. He was still laughing when she returned minutes later, quite over her own laughing fit and glaring warningly at him.  
  
"I am going to kill you," she said, dead seriously. "You are not going to live to be sixteen; I just want to make that perfectly clear to you."  
  
Ron snickered at her grave face and rolled his eyes. "Okay, Hermione."  
  
It was clear that he didn't trust her. Well, then, she'd just have to prove her point. Without waiting for another word, she jumped onto the couch and shoved him backwards, tickling him in a far more furious manner than he had done her. He shrieked louder than she had when he fell backwards with her force. He was completely helpless, breathless from laughter and pinned down by the fact that she had wasted no time in climbing on top of his stomach and straddling him, holding him down as she continued to torture him.  
  
"Stop it! I'm sorry!" He was yelping and shrieking as she showed him no mercy. "Hermione!"  
  
She looked down at him and cocked an eyebrow. "If you were smart enough, maybe you could get out of this," she challenged. She even stopped tickling him, waiting for his answer.  
  
Ron looked up at her before cocking an eyebrow right back at her and offering her a challenge of his own. "Maybe I don't want to."  
  
And there it was again.  
  
They were openly flirting- this was probably the first time they'd done any of this without blushing like mad and stuttering around their words.  
  
It was completely wicked.  
  
And she loved it.  
  
Hermione sat back a bit and crossed her arms over her chest. She eyed him curiously, and neither of them spoke for another very long moment. Hermione bit down on her lower lip and wondered if maybe she should just throw all caution to the wind and get everything over and done with. It would be easy enough; she was now positive that this whole thing wasn't one- sided.  
  
As she was thinking though, Ron reached up and grabbed her shoulders, pulling her down to where she was almost lying on top of him.  
  
She didn't move; she didn't breathe. They were face to face, just inches away from each other, and she noticed that this was one of the very few rare moments when they were literally eye-to-eye.  
  
And he was staring at her like he'd never done before.  
  
In a voice much deeper than the one he normally used, he said, "You get out of it." Their eyes locked, and she held her breath as he barely whispered his next words. "Unless you don't want to, either."  
  
"Hermione!"  
  
The kitchen door closed with a thud, and Hermione immediately looked up in terror at the sound of her mother's voice.  
  
"Oh, shit!" It had come from her mouth, but Ron didn't even have time to scold her because without hesitating another second, she had jumped off of Ron and was pulling him into a sitting position. He looked at her bewildered as she quickly sat back down, a good distance from him.  
  
At that exact moment, the door leading from the kitchen to the living room opened, and Mrs. Granger walked in dressed in her work clothes. She glanced at the two teenagers. "Oh, good. I didn't think you were home."  
  
"We're here," Hermione muttered.  
  
"Where's Harry?" she asked casually.  
  
"With Gia," Hermione muttered again. She was doing her very best to appear casual, but she wasn't doing too good of a job of it.  
  
"Oh," her mother sounded slightly disappointed. "Well, your father wants to take everyone out for dinner tonight. But I suppose if Harry's busy then that's fine." She eyed the bag of sweets on the coffee table. "If you two haven't spoiled your appetite, of course." She rolled her eyes. "Hermione, you know I hate for you to eat this junk."  
  
"I know, Mum," Hermione said, quite annoyed with the presence of her mother.  
  
"It's mine, Mrs. Granger," Ron spoke for the first time. "Mine and Harry's."  
  
Mrs. Granger looked rather disapprovingly at the redhead. "You're both going to rot your teeth out."  
  
Ron grinned, a winning grin that he knew to work quite well on Hermione's mum- he'd noticed this a few days before. "Then it'd just be more business for you, right?"  
  
Mrs. Granger chuckled. "Just make sure you're ready at seven, okay?"  
  
Both teens nodded, and when Mrs. Granger was out of sight, Hermione took a chance glance at Ron, who she was surprised to see was looking back at her.  
  
There was a very awkward moment of silence that hadn't been there moments before. Hermione wasn't sure whether this was good or bad, but she did know that her mother was at home. And Hermione was feeling things far too tempting for that to be a good mix.  
  
"Well, I'm going to go find something to wear," she said casually.  
  
Ron looked at her. His face was serious, but he nodded, knowing what she was thinking and knowing that it was true.  
  
There was a time and a place for everything, and this definitely was not it.  
  
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Ahhh!!! More shoes hitting the computer screens! I can see it now! Lalala, I am so evil!!! I LOVE it!!!!!!  
  
I also LOVE feedback, so please leave some!!! 


	36. Where Have You Been?

A/N: Feedback for the last chapter was overwhelming! You guys are the best!  
  
Warning: This chapter contains MAJOR (and when I say major, I mean major) angst. You have been warned.  
  
Disclaimer: My initials are not JKR. That should be enough explanation.  
  
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"Where'd you get that scar?"  
  
Gia's question had seemingly come out of nowhere. She and Harry were sitting on the floor of her living room watching an old film on television, but they'd spent more time joking with each other than actually paying attention to the plot. So, incidentally, the question caught Harry slightly off-guard.  
  
He turned his head and looked at her; he was surprised to see that she was staring at him quite seriously. Without meaning to, Harry reached up and unconsciously fingered the scar adorning his forehead. The scar was such an important part of him that he, ironically, sometimes forgot about it.  
  
It held far too many painful memories and reminders, and he didn't like to think about the reason he was cursed with it. It was almost laughable how it was once the only thing he liked about his appearance; now it was what he hated the most. Harry would have liked to share all of this with Gia, but he knew that was out of the question. He trusted her very much, but he knew that even thinking about telling the truth was outright laughable. Instead, he decided on a story quite familiar to him- the one he'd been told for ten years of his life.  
  
"In a car accident."  
  
Gia gave him a look full of concern. "How old were you?"  
  
"One."  
  
Her eyes crinkled with sympathy. "Wow. Were your parents with you?"  
  
Harry looked away, almost wishing that she would just stop asking him so many questions. Quietly, he gave another one word answer. "Yeah."  
  
There was a moment of silence before her next question came softly. "Were they okay?"  
  
He could feel a rather familiar tugging at the back of his eyes, but he ignored it. It was a talent he'd prided himself on for fourteen years, and he answered her dully. "No. They died."  
  
He didn't look up, but he could tell that Gia was quite shocked. She didn't say anything for a few seconds, and then she finally managed to stutter an apology. "Oh... I'm sorry. I... I didn't know."  
  
Harry forced a shrug as he looked up. "Don't worry about it. There's no way you would have." He hoped the bitterness he was feeling didn't translate as sarcasm. "It's not like I introduce myself like, 'Hi, I'm Harry. I'm an orphan'."  
  
Gia nodded slightly; she had a very faraway look on her face. "Do you remember them at all?"  
  
He shook his head. "Not really. I've seen pictures, but that's about all I know really. I don't really have any memories of them."  
  
"My mother died when I was five." Her statement had been quiet and reserved, and she was looking off somewhere that Harry couldn't see.  
  
He was surprised to say the least. He'd met two people whom she had introduced as her parents briefly a few days ago. "But I thought..."  
  
Gia shook her head and quietly answered the unasked question. "No, Anne is my step-mother."  
  
"Oh." Harry wasn't sure what to say; he'd definitely not expected to have this conversation tonight, and he didn't exactly know how to handle it. Was he supposed to apologize as she had done when he told her that his parents were dead? Were they just supposed to sit in silence?  
  
Gia answered his silent questions when she posed a verbal one of her own. "Do you ever feel guilty for not remembering them?"  
  
She was looking at him now, and Harry noticed that he'd never seen her look anywhere close to this serious. So far, she'd been happy and laughing most of the time they'd been together. He didn't know how to react.  
  
"Not really," he answered quietly. It was the truth, too. Why should he feel guilty about something like that? He had far too many other things to feel guilty for instead. "I was just a baby."  
  
She nodded absently. "Yeah." Then she bit down slightly on her lower lip. "But I was five- almost six. I shouldn't have forgotten."  
  
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You don't remember your mother?"  
  
Gia looked down at the floor below her. She spoke so quietly that he had to strain to hear her. "I remember some things. Like I remember this book she always used to read to me- it was called 'Little Bear'." She smiled sadly. "I knew it by heart, but it was my favorite. I know she must have gotten sick of it, but she never complained. She just always read it to me whenever I asked her to." A tear glistened in the corner of her eye, but she laughed quietly. "And I remember she used to make really good macaroni and cheese..."  
  
Harry tried very hard not to notice that she was starting to cry. He wanted to help her, but he didn't know how.  
  
"I remember those stupid things- things that aren't even important." A tear slid down her cheek. "But I can't remember the important things. I don't remember what she smelled like. Or how her voice sounded..." She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly. "I forgot all the important things."  
  
Not knowing what else to do, Harry asked her a question. In a very small voice, he looked at her carefully and said, "How did she die?"  
  
"She had cancer." Gia shrugged her shoulders lazily. "But no one even told me. No one even told me she was sick until she was in the hospital about to die." More tears fell from her eyes as she went on. "And then they weren't even going to let me see her, but I begged my father and begged him until he finally gave in." She was nearly trembling, and her eyes were blank and aimless. "And she just looked so... so not like her. She was just sick looking, and I was..." she bit down hard on her lower lip, "I was scared of her." A sob escaped her lips, and she put her head into her lap.  
  
Harry finally reacted, and he moved closer to her, placing a gentle hand on her back. He could feel her body shaking with her sobs underneath his hand.  
  
She finally looked up, swallowing and wiping at her eyes with the backs of her hands. With a quivering voice, she went on with her story. "But then she asked me to come lay with her. And I did." She rubbed her lips together. "I was scared of her, but I went anyway because I didn't know what else to do." The tears started to fall again, and she drew in a few shallow, shaky breaths. "And do you know what she did then?" There was a long moment before she answered her own question with the quietest and most wavering of voices she'd used yet. "She told me the story of 'Little Bear' by heart." She swallowed and looked away. "And then the next morning she died. And then that was it..."  
  
Seeing Gia in such a state was pushing Harry closer to crying his own tears than he'd been in a long time- even the night of the Third Task. But he couldn't cry because that wasn't what she needed. He wasn't sure what it was exactly that she did need, but he knew it wasn't his tears. Instead, he opted to remove his hand from her back and reach for one of her own hands. She looked up when he took her hand into his own, and they shared a meaningful look that wouldn't have been understood by anyone other than the two of them.  
  
It was the most personal of moments that they'd shared so far, and somehow, Harry knew that Gia trusted him enough to tell him more. Because he just somehow knew that there was more that needed telling.  
  
Calming her tears, Gia took a slow breath and went on talking. "When she died, I was completely alone."  
  
Harry looked at her with a gentle gaze. "What about your dad?"  
  
Gia scowled. "My father doesn't give two shits about me, and he never has. After she died, he was too caught up in dealing with..." she waved her hand dismissively, "...with whatever it was that he was feeling to even care what I was going through. Instead of sitting down and talking to me and explaining to me what had happened and why and how and everything else, he just chose to send me to a fucking psychiatrist." She laughed a cold, derisive laugh. "So, I was just supposed to sit there and tell this complete stranger everything that was going on in my head. I was five goddamn years old!" She set her lips into an angry line. "I was five years old, and the only person I had to talk to was some overpriced shrink that spent more time telling me how pretty I looked in my dresses and how sweet my curls were than trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me."  
  
Harry had no idea what to say, so he just listened. He finally figured out that listening was all she really needed.  
  
"And then, like I wasn't fucked up enough, my dad had to go and marry some bitch who hated me."  
  
"Your stepmother? The same one you have now?"  
  
Gia nodded. "Yeah. Anne. God, she is such a bitch!"  
  
"Why do you think she hated you?" Harry didn't want to be pushy, but he was curious. He hoped she didn't mind.  
  
"She still hates me," she answered without hesitation. "She's always thought that she had to compete with me or something for my dad's attention. But it's not like he ever cared in the first place, so yeah... whatever." The tears had stopped completely, and now she just looked like she was brimming with rage. "Do you know she tried to kick me out of the house last year?" Her eyes were flashing. "I was fourteen years old, and she tried to kick me out of the bloody house. She fed my father some bullshit about how my friends were all such horrible people. And how stupid I was. And what a slut I was." She looked up at Harry, her face set to something almost dangerously serious. "And I am not a slut. I'm not. And I'm not stupid, either. And my friends aren't bad people!"  
  
Harry shook his head, not knowing what else to do. "What did your father do?"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "He wouldn't kick me out because I guess he has some sort of human bone in his body. I guess he knew that if they kicked me out, I'd probably end up a prostitute or a drug addict or dead or something, and he probably didn't want to deal with that guilt. Or the shame." She shrugged her shoulders bitterly. "But sometimes I wish they would have kicked me out because at least then I wouldn't have to stay here and listen to all the horrible things she has to say about me. And I wouldn't have to watch my father sit by and do nothing about it. God, I hate them."  
  
Harry looked down at the floor. "Do you ever think about running away?"  
  
She nodded. "I think about it a lot."  
  
There was a long moment before Harry answered quietly, "Me, too."  
  
Gia looked up at his admittance and studied him curiously. "Who do you live with?"  
  
Harry tried not to scowl, but it was hard. "My mum's sister and her husband and son." He could detect the bitterness in his own voice, and he was sure that she heard it, too.  
  
"You don't like them?"  
  
Harry let out a very sarcastic laugh. "About as much as I like getting my teeth yanked out of my head."  
  
Gia glanced momentarily at their still entwined hands and then back up at him curiously. "What makes them so horrible?"  
  
Harry looked away, fighting down the anger that he wasn't sure he could control. He could feel his emotions getting far too serious- what with hearing Gia's story and thinking about his own. It was almost too much. "I spent ten years of my life living in a broom closet under the stairs."  
  
"What?" Gia's eyes went wide with his statement.  
  
Harry frowned and glared at a spot across the room. "Yeah. My aunt hated my mum, and then they got stuck with me because I didn't have any other living relatives. And they hate me so much... I don't have one single memory that I would call good from before the time that I was eleven. And the only reason I have them past eleven is because I went off to school."  
  
There was a long moment of silence until Gia sat up and spoke in a loud, completely outraged voice. "That is such fucking crap! Life is so full of just bullshit!"  
  
Harry looked up; he suddenly felt more connected to her than he had to anyone before in his entire life. Ron, Hermione, Sirius, and everyone else included. Nodding slightly, he muttered an, "I know."  
  
"We were just kids for Christ's sake! Just fucking children, and no one even gave a damn!"  
  
She was closing in on hysteria, but this was somewhat comforting to Harry. For the first time in his life, someone really understood. In the same toneless voice, he repeated the first statement. "I know."  
  
She twisted up her face, and Harry was afraid that she was going to start crying again. But she didn't; she just shook her head and spoke in a calmer tone. "All I ever wanted growing up... All I ever wanted was for someone to tell me that my mother's death wasn't my fault." Harry looked at her, but she went on. "You know, maybe if someone had told me she was sick, I wouldn't have been so needy. Maybe I could have taken care of myself more, so she wouldn't have to spend all her time tending to me. Maybe she could have gotten better..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked at Harry.  
  
And then, in a way that only someone else who blamed themselves for their parents' deaths could do, he gave her everything she wanted.  
  
"It wasn't your fault."  
  
Time seemed to stand still as they stared at each other with a look more meaningful than any that they'd ever given or received in the past. And then Gia shook her head over so slightly and whispered something that would change them both.  
  
"God, where have you been?"  
  
And then, before he even knew what was happening, she was kissing him.  
  
Harry sat in shock for a moment before he realized what was happening. His eyes closed on instinct, and her hands slowly found the sides of his neck as her lips moved carefully over his. He'd never kissed anyone, but he was sure in that instant that the fact that he'd never kissed anyone before had been for a reason.  
  
The reason being that he'd never known Gia before.  
  
Without really knowing what he was doing, Harry gently moved his own lips under hers and simply reveled in the way she tenderly and slowly met his movements.  
  
It was truly like nothing he'd ever felt before.  
  
Moments later when they pulled apart, Harry's head was still spinning. His eyes fluttered open and he looked at her. She was looking at him in a way that no one ever had before. And then, without speaking, she slowly raised one of her hands to his forehead and brushed his bangs away from his face.  
  
Looking into his eyes briefly, she leaned forward and gently pressed her lips to his scar.  
  
And, in that single movement, she told him without even speaking a word every single thing he'd ever wanted or needed to hear.  
  
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Whew. Okay, this chapter was incredibly short, I know. But it was also probably the hardest thing I've ever had to write. It took me a long time to write, and I actually broke down into tears on more than one occasion while writing it. I hope that its meaning is well-felt. 


	37. Nightmares

A/N: Wow, the last chapter drew in a lot of responses! More than I expected. I'm getting mixed reactions about Gia, though- it seems like there are just as many people who hate her as there are those who like her. Guess we'll just wait and see, right? And now... for more Ron and Hermione...  
  
Disclaimer: None of them are mine, unfortunately...  
  
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Hermione woke up with a start. Her eyes flew open, and she found herself staring at the drapery covering her bed. She didn't have a clue as to what had woken her up so abruptly, and a search of her recent memory didn't reveal any nightmare that she'd just been having. As she set her mind to thinking again, she was provided with the answer.  
  
A quiet yell echoed into her room, and she knew immediately that it had come from the room next to hers.  
  
"Harry!" she gasped quietly as she sat straight up, now fully-awake. Without thinking, she quickly pushed the coverings around her bed aside and crawled into the cool air of her bedroom. She didn't bother to find a robe or anything, though, and she barely noticed the way the cold hardwood floor chilled her feet as she headed for her door.  
  
When she got to Harry's room, she heard another small yell, and she could hear mumbling through the door. She couldn't make out what he was saying, but she didn't concern herself with this. Glancing down the hallway, she carefully raised a fist to the wood of the door and knocked quietly. She was given no answer, nor was she when she tried knocking a second time.  
  
Without trying a third time, she simply reached for the knob and let herself in. The room was dark, but the light from the hallway shone in and revealed Harry's sleeping form. He was tossing from side to side of the bed, mumbling something incomprehensible to her. His face was twisted in agony, and Hermione instantly raced to his side.  
  
"Harry!" she called, reaching down and attempting to shake him. "Harry, wake up!"  
  
He didn't, of course; he simply shrugged her away and started muttering something about everything always being his fault.  
  
She looked at him, fear and dread filling her heart. For the first time in a long time, she felt completely helpless. She wanted to wake him up, but she didn't know how.  
  
But she knew someone who would.  
  
Not hesitating another moment, Hermione turned away from Harry and ran out of the room and to the next door. She raised her hand and knocked on it, not really caring if she woke her parents up.  
  
"Ron!"  
  
Her only answer was complete silence.  
  
Shaking her head, Hermione didn't think twice about letting herself into Ron's room and hurrying over to the bed where he was fast asleep. He had kicked all of the covers off of him, and as Hermione looked down at him asleep in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, she suddenly became quite apprehensive about waking him up.  
  
But Harry...  
  
Hermione glanced nervously behind her at the door, which had closed behind her when she entered the room. Confident that no one was going to walk in and think the worst, she carefully sat down beside him, taking full notice of the way the moonlight was coming in through the window across the room and falling across his face, making him look even paler than normal.  
  
Taking in a shaking breath, she slowly lifted a hand to brush some of his hair away from his forehead. She let her hand linger in his hair for a moment, noticing for the first time how thick it had gotten. It was nice.  
  
She gasped quietly when Ron reached up to swat at whatever had landed on his forehead. In his unconscious state, though, he somehow managed to cover her hand with his own and curl his long fingers under hers. Then, as the smallest hint of a smile crossed his lips, he mumbled something that made her heart speed up in an instant.  
  
"Hermione..."  
  
Hermione stared down at him intensely. He was very much asleep, and it wasn't as if she'd made her presence known to him verbally- it was, instead, almost as if he'd recognized her presence through his slumber.  
  
It was incredible.  
  
But as much as Hermione would have enjoyed continuing the little experiment (she couldn't help but get intrigued- curiosity was just her nature), she'd come to Ron's room for a specific reason.  
  
And that took first precedent over everything else.  
  
Rather reluctantly, she pulled her hand away from Ron's grasp and placed it against his shoulder. Shaking him as gently as possible, for she didn't want to startle him, she quietly called his name.  
  
"Ron..."  
  
He mumbled something incomprehensible, and Hermione bit down on her lower lip. Bending her body so that she could speak directly into his ear, she tried again. "Ron, come on. Wake up..."  
  
"Hmm..." Ron frowned slightly but reluctantly let his eyes flutter open. After a second, he seemed to register half of what was going on. "Hermione?" his voice was gruff and sleepy, and he twisted up his forehead in confusion. Then all that once, he sat straight up and stared at her, fully awake. "What are you doing?"  
  
Hermione was thankful for the darkness of his room because she was sure that it made her blush at least somewhat less noticeable. Not wanting him to get any ideas- especially the wrong ones- she swallowed and answered him. "It's Harry."  
  
Ron's brow settled into concern, and he quickly asked for clarification. "What's wrong?"  
  
"He's having a nightmare. And I can't get him to wake up." She twisted her hands in her lap nervously.  
  
Ron raised a hand to his forehead and rubbed it, sighing softly. He shook his head before swinging his feet over the side of the bed and walking out of his bedroom. Hermione followed him into Harry's room, but she stopped in the doorway as Ron crossed the room to their other best friend's bed.  
  
Harry was still tossing and turning rapidly from one side of the bed to the other. His covers were all tangled around him, and he was speaking quickly in a panicked voice.  
  
"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to! Just stop! Please... Oh, God. I'm so sorry..."  
  
Ron stood over him for a long moment, regarding him carefully before leaning down and gripping Harry's shoulders, holding him in place and preventing him from rolling out of the grasp.  
  
Hermione listened as Ron spoke in a sharp, straightforward tone. "It's a dream, Harry. It's not real. Wake up."  
  
Harry couldn't thrash about anymore, and at the sound of Ron's voice, his own voice turned from panicked to more of a whimpering, desperate tone.  
  
It broke Hermione's heart.  
  
"I'm sorry... I really... I didn't mean to... Mum..."  
  
"It's not real, Harry." Ron continued to speak in the same firm tone.  
  
Without a word, Hermione backed out of the doorway and into the hallway.  
  
Moments later, when Ron exited the room and shut the door behind him, Hermione was leaned against the wall chewing on her thumbnail nervously.  
  
"You shouldn't bite your nails," Ron admonished. "It's a horrid habit to break."  
  
Hermione looked up at him strangely but lowered her finger from her mouth nonetheless. "Did you wake him up?"  
  
Ron shook his head and glanced away. "He never wakes up."  
  
"Is he okay?" Hermione was speaking quietly.  
  
Nodding his head a little, Ron looked at Harry's shut door. "Yeah. He calmed down now. He'll be fine for the rest of the night- it only happens once."  
  
"Does it happen every night?" The eeriness of the situation was making the question and answering process extremely awkward.  
  
"Not every night." Ron didn't sound like he wanted to go into too much detail about the topic; Hermione supposed that he felt like he was betraying Harry's confidence or something. It was the same as it had been in Hogsmeade when he'd first told her about Harry's nightmares.  
  
Hermione sighed and nodded, knowing that she shouldn't push the subject. But it still irked her that he thought he had to keep secrets from her; of course, it was also extremely admirable in a way.  
  
"Want to get a cup of tea?" he asked nonchalantly.  
  
Hermione nodded and followed him down the dark stairwell into the kitchen. She reached for the switch, light invaded the room on instant. She glanced for the first time since she'd first seen him sleeping at Ron's attire. He was still basically in his underwear, and she was dressed in nothing but a tank top and a cropped pair of pajama bottoms. The house seemed to be boiling, though, despite the December air outside. If anyone had walked in and seen them, she was sure that their assumptions would be the worst, and she blushed simply thinking about explaining this one away to her father.  
  
"Why are you so red?" he questioned as he turned his back to her and started rummaging through the cabinets for the tea bags.  
  
Hermione turned an even darker scarlet at his question, but she quickly shrugged and answered in what she hoped was a logically sounding answer. "I'm just hot."  
  
"It is rather warm in here, isn't he?" He started the water boiling on the stove in the same way Hermione had taught him a few days before. "Can't you do anything about that?"  
  
"We could turn down the heat, but my parents would probably wake up freezing. They're very cold-natured people."  
  
Ron nodded, yawning. "Picked the wrong country to live in then, didn't they?"  
  
"It could be worse," she admitted honestly. There was a long bout of silence as Ron waited for the tea to finish and Hermione sat at the table watching him. When it was finally ready, he poured it into two cups and set one in front of her before seating himself across the table from her.  
  
They sipped at their tea, both avoiding the topic that had awaken them. It wasn't until Ron started speaking with a rather odd expression etched across his face that the silence was spoken.  
  
"Did you know that Ginny used to have nightmares, too?"  
  
Hermione looked up, both shocked that he had spoken and shocked by his question. "What? You mean when you guys were little?"  
  
He shook his head. "No. After her first year- you know, with the whole diary thing."  
  
She knew, of course, but it was still hard for her to fully comprehend the situation. She'd been petrified for so much of the time that she couldn't really picture what it had all been like. They'd told her story after story, of course- mostly gloating about Lockhart being a phony- but she'd never really grasped all the details completely. "She's never had any while I've been there."  
  
"She doesn't get them anymore. I think she stopped when she went back to Hogwarts for her second year and realized that no one hated her." He grimaced. "But that first summer... It was awful."  
  
"Her room is two floors below yours. Surely you couldn't hear her."  
  
Ron shook his head. "Not from my room. But I knew because I found out on the third night back for holiday. I was sneaking downstairs because I wanted to nick something from the kitchen, but I stopped when I heard Mum's voice. Of course, I hid so she wouldn't see me, but I could see her. She was in Ginny's room, and the door was cracked so I could peek right in."  
  
"Was she awake?"  
  
"No, Mum was shaking her and calling her name. And Ginny was just lying completely still mumbling things like, 'Yes, Tom... I'm sorry, Tom... I will, Tom... I know, Tom... I didn't tell, Tom... You're my best friend, Tom..' " Ron broke away and looked up at Hermione. "Every sentence ended in the word 'Tom,' and she was just speaking in this cold, toneless voice. Like she was hypnotized or something. It was so creepy."  
  
Hermione tried to picture it. Ginny had been so different in those years from the way she was now. She hardly spoke to anyone at all, and she was incredibly, incredibly small. Now, she was much taller than Hermione, but that hadn't come until a growth spurt over the past two years. The eleven year old Ginny had been the smallest girl in Gryffindor; the only person smaller had been Colin Creevey.  
  
"It went on like that for I don't even know how long," Ron went on. "And then all of a sudden, she just let out this horrible scream and bolted straight up, sobbing worse than she had when she was six and George nearly let her drown in the pond." He didn't laugh or anything at the swimming memory, something Hermione was positive he'd found quite humorous when it had happened. "And I stood there for probably half an hour waiting for her to quit crying, but she didn't. Mum had her on her lap and was rocking her and trying to calm her down, but it wasn't working." He shook his head. "Finally, I just went back upstairs. I don't know when she stopped."  
  
Hermione was creeped out just by the story. "Was that the only time you saw her have one?"  
  
Ron frowned and shook his head. "No. The next night, I waited until everyone went to bed and then I snuck back downstairs and into her bedroom. I just sat up waiting, just to make sure it didn't happen again. But it did. It was at half-past three, nearly the same time it'd been the night before, and she started talking in her sleep again. I remember just staring at her for a really long time; her body was so rigid and stiff, and her voice was so... toneless... I half-expected Mum to come rushing in, but I guess Ginny wasn't be loud enough to wake her or something because she never came. And I just stood beside Ginny's bed watching her until she started crying. She was shaking so badly, she was trembling. And she looked up at me and just grabbed me. I almost yelled because she just yanked me down onto her bed and hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe." He frowned a little. "And she'd never really done that before, you know? And then she started talking so fast that I could barely understand her. She was like, 'Ron, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I swear I didn't! I'm so sorry! And I'm sorry to Harry, too! But I can't tell him, I just can't! And I'm sorry to Hermione, too! She probably hates me! And Harry probably hates me! And you probably hate me! And everyone probably hates me! I'm sorry! I'm so stupid! I'm sorry!"  
  
Hermione sucked in a short breath. She had never blamed Ginny for anything that had happened during their second year at Hogwarts. It wasn't Ginny's fault, and she knew that. It had never even crossed her mind that Ginny harbored so much guilt about it. "What did you do?" she asked quietly.  
  
Ron shrugged. "I just sat there. I didn't know what to do. I mean, I was barely thirteen years old- how was I supposed to handle that?"  
  
"So, what happened?"  
  
"She finally fell back asleep. And then it happened the next night and the night after that and the night after that..."  
  
"And you always went back?"  
  
Ron nodded. "I knew it would happen at half past three, so I always got up in time to go downstairs for her. I had to. I felt too guilty not to."  
  
"Why did you feel guilty? Because you couldn't get to her in the Chamber?" Hermione shook her head. "Ron, you couldn't help that."  
  
Ron shook his own head. "That's not why I felt guilty." Hermione raised her eyebrows, and he went on. "I felt guilty because on the third night I saw her having those nightmares, she was saying, 'My brothers are awful to me, Tom... They hate me, Tom... I hate them, Tom... They tease me all the time, Tom... They're so mean to me, Tom... Ron is the worst, Tom... He says I bother Harry too much, Tom... I don't mean to, Tom... I can't help it, Tom... He told Harry, Tom... I thought Ron was my best friend, Tom... He's not, you are, Tom..."  
  
Hermione immediately looked away from Ron. His eyes had gotten incredibly cloudy all of a sudden, and she didn't want to look at him.  
  
"I made her do it," Ron said airily. "The whole thing was my fault. I shouldn't have teased her. It was all my fault."  
  
Hermione forced herself to look back across the table and was surprised to see Ron staring quite determinedly into his cup of tea, as if he was working very hard at Divination homework. She tried to draw his attention back. "Ron..."  
  
"But she was right, you know?" Ron went right on. "I was supposed to be her best friend; I always had been before. But I completely ignored her from the time Harry got to our house in the middle of the summer all the way until we got back home after the year was finished. You know, unless it was to tell her not to bother Harry or to tell her to shut up or something."  
  
"Ron, you were twelve," Hermione said seriously. "How were you expected to act?"  
  
"Better than I did," Ron answered just as seriously. "Do you know that Mum even gave me a huge long lecture when I first got home from my first year? I think she was worried that I was going to get a big head over the whole Philosopher's Stone thing. And she told me that it was wonderful that I had made friends but to make sure that I didn't forget about everyone and everything else in the process. She even specifically said, 'Ginny is going to need you to watch out for her next year. Make sure you're there to take care of her. Don't let me down.' And what did I do? I was so not there to take care of her that I forced her into becoming possessed by a diary and nearly killing people." He looked up then and said, "Hermione, she could have killed you. And it would have all been my fault."  
  
"She didn't," Hermione said immediately. "I'm fine, aren't I? And it wasn't your fault. And it wasn't hers, either. It was Tom Riddle's fault and Lucius Malfoy's fault. It wasn't anyone else's."  
  
Ron scowled. "I'm going to get him for that one day." He was being so serious that Hermione grew quite apprehensive. "One day I'm going to make him pay for doing that."  
  
"Ron..."  
  
"I'm serious," he answered instantly. "I'm going to get him and his little prick of a son. One day."  
  
Hermione was chilled by the tone of his voice. "Ron, don't talk like that."  
  
"No," he answered just as seriously. "They deserve whatever they get. For that and for everything else that they've ever done. What goes around comes around."  
  
Hermione felt her own good amount of hatred towards the Malfoys, but as far as she could tell, it was nothing compared to what Ron felt. To her, Malfoy was simply a brainless idiot who was horribly spoiled. True, he called her several unflattering names, but she didn't allow it to get to her because she knew that he was simply just stupid. But Malfoy had always had a way of getting to Ron in a way that he couldn't succeed with herself or Harry. Hermione knew that Ron had issues with his family's financial situation, and she knew that most of his anger at Malfoy carefully masked the embarrassment that he was feeling every time Malfoy called him poor or made some rude comment about the state of his clothes or supplies. And Ron was so flamboyant with his feelings that Hermione was sometimes scared of what he would do to Malfoy if no one was around to hold him back and stop him.  
  
"Ron, you have to ignore them."  
  
"There comes a point where I can't ignore it, Hermione," he said sharply. "When I think about everything that Malfoy has said and done over the years... And then I think about what his dad did to my little sister." He twisted his face in anger. "I just hate them."  
  
Hermione took another sip of her tea and looked away.  
  
One day things would be different. They just had to be.  
  
************************************* Stay tuned for what's to come!  
  
A Christmas Eve party with all of the Grangers work associates, friends, and family... Christmas day at the Burrow... A snowstorm... New Year's Eve... And much more!!!!  
  
Please let me know what you think! 


	38. Shopping Spree

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has reviewed! I love you all!!!!!  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own it!  
  
*********************************  
  
Hermione walked downstairs on December 23rd to find Ron sprawled out across her living room sofa. She wasn't surprised; he'd found permanent residency there. For Ron had discovered the single invention that was responsible for rotting all Muggle children's brains.  
  
He was quite addicted to the televsion.  
  
"You're not going to have any brain cells left," she said smartly as she walked into the room and stood at the end of the sofa looking down at him.  
  
Ron looked at her and grinned briefly before turning his head back to the screen and answering. "Well, I'm sure you have enough to spare a few if need arises."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Where's Harry?"  
  
"Where do you think?"  
  
"It's nine o'clock in the morning!"  
  
Ron shrugged without looking up. "He's been gone since eight."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes again, still not used to the whole Harry/Gia thing. Not dwelling on it, though, she looked at the redhead. "Shove over."  
  
In answer to her request, Ron simply raised up enough to allow enough room for her to sit. She did so and looked at him crossly before he grinned again and dropped his head back down to rest on her lap. He turned his attention back to the television, and Hermione reluctantly followed his eyes.  
  
It was an old American program that she recognized somewhat. She was pretty sure that it was called 'Three's Company' or something like that. She watched for several minutes before finally rolling her eyes at just how bad the show really was.  
  
"This is so stupid," she said briskly.  
  
Ron didn't look at her; he kept his eyes glued to the screen as he answered. "It's not stupid. You should pay attention- it's educational."  
  
She stared down at him questioningly until he finally moved his head and met her eyes, still flashing her that infuriating smirk. "Educational?" she repeated disbelievingly.  
  
Ron nodded, satisfied. "Yes. It will give you some idea of what to expect after graduation. This is how it's going to be when you move in with Harry and me." He turned his head back to the program. "You know, just opposite."  
  
Hermione snorted. "Please! I would never, ever move in with the two of you."  
  
"And why not?" He rolled over, ignoring the program momentarily to look up at her.  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Because I don't fancy being a baby-sitter until the time I'm thirty, that's why."  
  
Ron did his best to look offended, but he couldn't quite pull it off. Shaking his head and stifling a yawn, he reached up and patted her cheek. "You won't know what you're missing if you pass up an opportunity like that..."  
  
"Trust me," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "I will be alright."  
  
Ron laughed and rolled back onto his side to watch the last few minutes of the show. When it was over, he yawned and sat up rubbing at his eyes. He stretched and reached across Hermione for the remote control, which was lying on the table beside the sofa. He pointed it at the television and started flipping the channels so quickly that Hermione's eyes started to hurt.  
  
"You can't possibly know what you're flipping past," she said, shaking her head.  
  
"I do," he answered, never taking his eyes away from the screen. "Nothing good is on."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and waited until he finally stopped on a channel that had two huge Japanese men in diapers circling each other menacingly. Ron laughed. "Here we go!"  
  
Hermione was too stunned to speak. "Oh, honestly!" She reached over and grabbed the remote from him. "If you insist on rotting your brain, at least do it while watching something worthwhile. What number is the Discovery Channel?" She started pushing the button and watching the channels pass in front of her.  
  
Ron turned and looked at her incredulously. "You aren't serious," he said disbelievingly. "I saw something on there last night about the mating of praying mantises. How boring could you possibly get?"  
  
Hermione stopped flipping the channels and looked back at him. "It's not boring, Ron. Praying mantises are fascinating creatures! And the way they mate is so cool! The female stays perfectly still in the praying position until a male comes by. Then she captures him, mates with him, and bites his head off!"  
  
There was a moment of unadulterated silence as Ron just stared at her in a way that said he really couldn't believe she'd actually just said what she had. Finally, he shook his head and muttered. "Please tell me you are kidding. Please tell me you don't really find that cool..."  
  
Hermione pursed her lips. "Oh, shut up. You just don't have an appreciation for truly useful information."  
  
Ron looked at her as if she was crazy. "Biting off a guy's head after mating is not fascinating, Hermione! It's gross! And you... You're mad!"  
  
She rolled her eyes again and gave him her best 'I won't even fight with you because I'm right and you're wrong' look. "This from the person who just spent thirty minutes watching what could be the worst television program ever made. And trust me, that would be a hard title to obtain."  
  
Ron opened his mouth and appeared to just be coming back with a response when Mr. and Mrs. Granger came downstairs dressed for work. Mr. Granger looked rather sharply at Ron, who turned pink when he realized that both he and Hermione were still in their nightclothes. Mrs. Granger didn't seem to notice, however, and she immediately reached into her purse and withdrew a credit card.  
  
"Take this and go shopping," she instructed as she handed the card to Hermione, who looked at her curiously. "The Christmas Eve party is tomorrow, of course, and I know that none of you brought anything to wear." At this, she looked around. "Is Harry gone again?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yeah."  
  
Mrs. Granger shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "Well, is he going to be here tomorrow for the party?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."  
  
She sighed. "Well, he needs something, too. Just go over to the Martins and get them. Take Gia with you if you have to. She's welcome at the party, of course."  
  
Hermione scowled slightly and looked away. She'd warmed up to Gia somewhat, but she still wasn't completely convinced. However, she knew that it was important to Harry, so she was trying, for Harry's sake, to put the past behind her. "You want me to buy Gia clothes, too?"  
  
Her mother shrugged. "I'm sure she has something to wear."  
  
Hermione scowled. "I'm sure I don't want her at the party..."  
  
"I'm sure it's not your decision," her mother answered sharply.  
  
"I'm sure it should be," Hermione answered back just as rudely. She was very much aware of the fact that she was pushing it, but she honestly didn't care.  
  
However, her mother didn't seem to share the sentiment. "And I'm sure that the smart aleck tone is quite unintentional." She shot her daughter a warning look, and Hermione frowned, turning away to roll her eyes. She distinctly heard Ron snicker, but she smartly ignored him.  
  
Instead, she turned to her father and smiled sweetly at him. "Daddy, can we go to London to shop? We won't find anything here, I'm sure. Not this close to Christmas."  
  
Her father reached into his pocket and pulled out his own wallet. He withdrew some money and handed it to her. "Take the train, but be careful."  
  
"And be good," her mother added sharply.  
  
Hermione looked down at the money in her hand and smiled. "We will be," she promised sweetly.  
  
Yeah, right. Far too much money for train fare and a credit card... They'd be good alright.  
  
Her parents nodded. "We'll see you this afternoon then," her father said briskly.  
  
"Don't get into any trouble," her mother warned seriously. "I mean it."  
  
Hermione just smiled innocently. She saw Ron looking at her wonderingly from the corner of her eye, but she didn't dare to meet his gaze.  
  
After her parents were gone, though, Ron immediately asked what she was up to.  
  
Hermione just grinned and shrugged. "Nothing. I just can't believe they're stupid enough to give us a credit card."  
  
"So, what does it do exactly?" he asked, taking the plastic and examining it. "You just buy whatever you want and the card pays for it?"  
  
"Well, sort of. I mean, they'll have to pay it back eventually, but it will be far too late for them to do anything about it. You know, if we want to spend a bit more than they planned..."  
  
Ron turned his eyes on her with a mixed look of surprise and admiration. "You are just full of surprises these days, Hermione. Who would have thought you had it in you?"  
  
"My parents trust me," she answered simply.  
  
"I see." He snickered. "Don't know why, but I see."  
  
Hermione just beamed. "Well, let's go already!"  
  
"Don't we have to stop by Gia's house?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yeah, I suppose so."  
  
Ron laughed again. "I think your mum was getting quite put off with you."  
  
She shrugged. "I don't care. She'll get over it."  
  
With that, she turned and hurried up the stairs to get ready for the shopping spree.  
  
**********************************  
  
An hour and a half later, Ron found himself standing in the middle of an extremely crowded clothing store beside Harry. Both boys looked thoroughly bored and out of place, as they were doing absolutely nothing but standing.  
  
Hermione and Gia had emerged themselves in the racks of clothes immediately and were currently digging through a row of black skirts. To one who didn't know, they would have appeared to be good friends; they were laughing and talking together as they admired the clothes. Gia had graciously accepted the offer to the Christmas Eve party, saying she had the perfect dress but would love to come shopping anyway. Ron was pretty sure that Hermione was secretly thankful that another girl had come along.  
  
"This is boring, huh?" Harry asked with a yawn.  
  
Ron shrugged. "I dunno. I happen to love looking at dresses for hours at a time." His ever-so-present sarcasm was in full force as he rolled his eyes and turned to look at the girls. "How can they find that interesting?"  
  
At that moment, Hermione started pushing her way through the crowd toward the boys; in her hands were three different black skirts and she immediately handed one each to Ron and Harry and kept one for herself. "Which one do you like the best?"  
  
The boys stared at the skirts with nearly identical looks of disbelief. There was a moment of confused silence until Harry finally shook his head and said, "What is the difference?! They're all the same!"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, they are not." She held up the one she was holding and fingered a half slit up one side of it. "This one's got a slit." She pointed to a zipper on the one Harry was holding and said, "This one zips, and the others don't." And then pointing at the one Ron was holding, she said, "And that one is shorter, see?" She held her own skirt at the same level with it. There was indeed nearly an inch difference in length...  
  
"They'll look the same when you put them on," Harry said unenthusiastically.  
  
"I like that one," Ron said honestly, pointing to the one Hermione was holding. Harry then sent his look of disbelief at the other boy.  
  
Hermione looked down at the skirt and wrinkled her nose. "Are you sure?"  
  
Ron nodded. "Yeah, it's the best."  
  
Hermione still looked skeptical when Gia came rushing up to them. "Hermione, come look at these shoes!" she exclaimed excitedly.  
  
Without a word to the boys, Hermione grinned and rushed off in the direction of the shoes with Gia.  
  
Harry just stared at Ron for a long, long moment.  
  
"What?" Ron finally asked, obviously annoyed.  
  
"What do you mean it's the best? They were the same bloody thing!"  
  
Ron grinned. "No, way. Slits are always a good thing."  
  
Harry just rolled his eyes. "Please spare me."  
  
Ron simply shrugged and gave a 'what can you do' look. "Let's find some stuff and make them try it on."  
  
"What?!" Harry looked as if he really couldn't believe he was having this conversation. "You are kidding, right?"  
  
"Look, we're gonna be stuck here for God knows how long anyway. We might as well do something to pass the time." He didn't wait for an answer; he simply turned around and walked toward a rack of dresses. Harry stared after him for a long moment before shaking his head and reluctantly following.  
  
"I can't believe we're doing this," he said in disgust as he watched Ron reach for a long peach colored dress.  
  
"What about this?" Ron held up the dress and studied it. "Let's make them put it on."  
  
"That looks like it would swallow either one of them alive," Harry said honestly.  
  
"You're right." Ron shrugged and started to put it back on the rack, but Harry grabbed the tag and studied it.  
  
"We don't even know what sizes they wear."  
  
"Hmm..." Ron looked across the store where the girls were currently fawning over a pair of what appeared to be very high heels. "Well, they're both pretty short... Do you think Hermione's skinnier than Gia?"  
  
Harry followed his gaze and compared the two girls from across the store. "Maybe a little. Not much, though. They look pretty much the same size."  
  
"Gia's boobs are bigger." Ron was being completely serious and didn't even blink as he made the observation.  
  
Harry nearly broke his neck whipping around in his best friend's direction. "What?!"  
  
Ron looked as if he didn't see what the big deal was. "Well, they are."  
  
"You shouldn't be looking!" Harry admonished in disbelief.  
  
"Looking where?" Ron asked with raised eyebrows. "At Gia or at Hermione?"  
  
"At either of them!"  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Like you haven't looked before. At both of them."  
  
Harry turned red and glanced back at the girls subconsciously, causing Ron to break into laughter.  
  
"See?" he asked with a smirk. "They are bigger."  
  
Harry didn't comment; he simply turned back to the rack of dresses blushing and pulled out a lilac colored dress with thin straps. "What about this one?"  
  
Ron snickered. "Yeah, I'm sure that would show them off."  
  
Harry immediately put the dress back.  
  
Still laughing, Ron reached and picked it back up, slinging it over his arm. He rummaged through several more before pulling out a dark wine colored dress that had a shimmery overlay. "Do you like this one?"  
  
Harry looked at the dress and then at the girls. "It would look really nice on Hermione," he admitted quietly, as if not wanting to give into admitting that he was actually picking out dresses.  
  
Ron nodded and walked off in the direction of the girls. Harry followed reluctantly, muttering and shaking his head. When they finally made their way through the crowded store, the girls looked up at them curiously, both of their eyes settling on the dresses draped over Ron's arm. Without offering an explanation, he thrust the red one at Hermione and the purple one at Gia.  
  
"Try these on."  
  
Both girls looked down at the dresses and then back up at him with furrowed brows.  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "We were bored. Put them on. They're nice." He said all of this by way of an explanation while shoving the girls in the direction of the doorway marked 'Fitting Rooms.'  
  
"Ron, have you lost your mind?" Hermione asked with a backwards glance. "Where's Harry?" She stood on tiptoe and tried to look over the crowd, but Ron pushed her into an empty room and shut the door.  
  
He turned to Gia who was looking at him carefully. "Well?" he asked with raised eyebrows. "Go on, then. Put that on. Harry wants to see." He smiled mischievously and watched as she turned pink. Not really arguing, though, she turned and walked into an empty room beside Hermione's.  
  
Ron smiled triumphantly when he felt someone slap him upside the back of the head. He jumped and turned around to see Harry half-glaring at him. "Thanks a lot..." Harry mumbled sarcastically.  
  
Ron smirked and shrugged. "I only speak the truth."  
  
"Yeah," Harry added with a dangerously hissing whisper. "Perhaps I'll just speak the truth to Hermione, huh?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "Who cares anymore? Tell her whatever you want to." He hadn't quite gotten around to verbally admitting to the fact that he did, in fact, like Hermione in a way that was different from the way he liked the rest of his friends, but Hermione knew. Hermione knew, and she was the only person who mattered anyway. If she hadn't known before, she definitely knew after the past days that they'd had to themselves. He'd never have expected that he could flirt with her so openly and get past the redness for the most part. But he had.  
  
And she liked him back.  
  
He was sure of it.  
  
"What?" Harry asked in disbelief. "What?!" he repeated again. "You two aren't..." he trailed off, cringing the thought.  
  
Ron shook his head. "No." It was all the answer he gave, and he was sure that the tone of it let on that it was all he planned on giving. It was the truth after all. No, they weren't.  
  
Not yet anyway.  
  
At that moment, though, the door to one of the dressing rooms opened, and Gia stepped out. She was wearing the lilac dress, and both boys stopped to stare at her for a split-second. She really did look nice; it fit her perfectly, and Ron had been right- it did show 'them' off quite nicely.  
  
"Wow," Harry smiled softly at her, and she blushed in return.  
  
Ron was just beginning to feel out of place when the other door opened a crack, and Hermione's head poked out. "Is Gia out there?" she asked but answered her own question when she turned her head a fraction of an inch and saw Harry and Gia standing quite close together outside the room next to hers. They appeared to be talking in very hushed voices and didn't look as if they wanted to be disturbed. Hermione frowned a bit and turned back to Ron. "I can't get the zipper. It's stuck halfway up."  
  
Ron glanced at Harry and Gia, and when he was sure that they weren't going to notice anything, he looked at Hermione. "Want me to get it?" he asked, hoping that he sounded as nonchalant as he was trying to be.  
  
Hermione looked a little apprehensive, but she eventually shrugged a bit and held the door open enough for him to squeeze in. The fitting room was small, and Ron tried very hard not to notice Hermione's discarded clothes lying in a pile at his feet. Instead, he focused his attention on glancing at her for the first time. She was holding the dress together in the back somewhat, and he was just about to admire how nice the color and style really did look on her when she turned her back to him and dropped the sides of the dress in order to sweep her hair up. He hesitated for a moment, noticing the way her whole upper back was nearly completely exposed. But there was something...  
  
He wanted to touch her.  
  
He could feel her eyes watching him from the reflection in the mirror, but he didn't look up and meet them. Carefully, he steadied her with one hand on the side of her waist as his other went to the zipper and tugged upwards.  
  
Thank God for zippers...  
  
When she'd said that it was stuck, she wasn't lying. The zipper simply wouldn't budge, and Ron had never been happier in his life. Not only did it give him an excuse to touch her for just a little longer than necessary, it also gave him an excuse to do the one thing that was known to unstick zippers. He pretended to work on it for a bit longer, yanking and tugging with all of his might and secretly enjoying the way she jerked every time he would give a particularly rough tug.  
  
"I need a bigger size," she said finally.  
  
"No, you don't. It fits," he answered simply. "See, it's just the zipper." He bit down on her lower lip and pretended to concentrate. "Here, let me try this."  
  
And with that, he tugged on the zipper once again. Only this time, he put good use to the only known way to unstick a zipper and pulled it down. Hermione gasped and he felt her head shoot up to look at him in the mirror. Freezing his hand, he had no choice but to look up and meet her eyes. She was looking at him nervously, as if completely unsure of why he had just done what he'd done. Ron didn't give any verbal explanation, though. Instead, he just lowered his eyes back to the dress and carefully pulled the zipper all the way up in one slow movement.  
  
"See?" he asked, glancing back up. "It worked."  
  
She smiled a little, and he let his hand drop from the zipper and settle on the opposite side of her waist from the one that his other hand was still holding. He looked up in the mirror from behind her and said, "Wow, that looks amazing."  
  
She probably thought he was referring to the dress, which was fine with him. But he was actually speaking of the view of the two of them together with his hands on her waist and her leaned back against him, smiling.  
  
"You like it?" she asked, turning around and looking at him face-to-face.  
  
Ron grinned. "Of course I like it. I picked it out."  
  
Hermione giggled and turned to the mirror, spinning around to look at the dress from all angles. Ron stood back and watched. As she admired the dress, he admired her.  
  
"It looks great," he answered honestly. "You look really pretty."  
  
She stopped and turned to him, smiling wider than he'd seen her do in a long time. "I want it!"  
  
Ron laughed. "Then buy it."  
  
She glanced at the price tag, and her eyes widened. "My parents would kill me..."  
  
"You have the credit card." He watched as her grin turned a bit slyer.  
  
She nodded. "Okay. I just hope I'm hundreds of miles away at Hogwarts when they get the bill."  
  
Ron laughed. "You will be."  
  
Hermione grinned again, glancing once more at her reflection before turning back to Ron. "Okay, get out."  
  
Ron raised an eyebrow.  
  
"I have to change back," she said simply. "Now, go."  
  
Ron didn't budge. Instead, he just raised his other eyebrow and looked expectantly at her. Hermione studied him with pursed lips before rolling her eyes and using his shoulders to shove him in the direction of the door. "Go."  
  
Just as they opened the door, though, they both halted. With the door cracked halfway open, they had a very clear view of the hallway in front of it, and what they saw caused them both to stop in their tracks.  
  
Harry and Gia were leaned against the wall opposite of them, and they definitely seemed quite caught up in each other. They were making out right there in the middle of the hallway, too involved in each other to even notice or care that they were in public and being watched by other people.  
  
And Ron and Hermione were in too much shock to do anything but stand and stare for a long, long moment. Finally, Hermione shook herself of the surprise long enough to tug Ron's arm and pull him back into the dressing room, carefully shutting themselves off from Gia and Harry.  
  
Ron's mouth was still halfway open as he turned around and looked at Hermione. After a few seconds, though, he seemed to snap out of it and come back to reality.  
  
"That little fucker!" he exclaimed in a very loud whisper.  
  
"Ron!"  
  
"He didn't even tell me he was snogging her!" Ron looked positively outraged at the fact that he'd been left in the dark by his supposed best friend.  
  
Hermione raised her eyebrows and pointedly asked him a question. "Would you tell him?"  
  
"If I was making out with Gia?!"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and cringed. "No!" She looked away and finished with, "If you were kissing... someone else."  
  
Ron instantly closed his mouth. "Oh." He glanced away for a moment, too, and when he looked back, she was now staring at him, waiting on the answer. "No... You know," he hesitated for a moment, "unless she wanted me to..."  
  
Hermione's face settled back into relaxation. "Oh." She nodded noncommittally. "Well, good. You shouldn't just go around telling things like that."  
  
Ron nodded slowly, making up his mind in the process.  
  
Soon. Very soon.  
  
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I love feedback!!!!  
  
Everyone needs a little Ya-ya! 


	39. Red Is a Lovely Color

A/N: THANK YOU to everyone who took the time to review in the past. I'm so thrilled that everyone likes this story, and I want you to know that your comments mean more than you could imagine. This part wasn't supposed to be in the story originally, but I got struck with the idea this morning and decided to write it and see how it turned out. I think it turned out pretty well, and I hope you all enjoy it.  
  
Disclaimer: I wish.  
  
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The annual Christmas Eve party was an event hosted each year by the Grangers for their friends, family, business associates, and clients. The entire downstairs was transformed each year into a festive holiday themed gathering area, and for as long as Hermione could remember, she had hated the whole thing. The last time she'd attended one of these events had been during the Christmas break of her first year at Hogwarts. Then, she'd been an eleven year old girl who had been shoved into a frilly dress and in front of a piano in order to entertain the guests. She had one thought to this as she stood in front of her bedroom mirror twisting her hair all over her head trying to decide whether to wear it up or leave it down. One single thought.  
  
Her parents had both been inhaling too much of the laughing gas they used on their patients if they thought she was stepping a single foot near a damn piano.  
  
She sighed with exasperation, finally dropping her hair and letting it fall down over her shoulders in straight thick layers. It looked incredibly "blah" to her.  
  
"Where the hell is Lavender Brown when you need her?!" she asked the mirror in frustration. She half-expected it to answer her back before realizing that she was in the Muggle world, and in the Muggle world, mirrors do not comment back when asked a question.  
  
However, boys from outside the door do. A knock sounded, and she jumped before calling for the knocker to come in. Ron and Harry both stepped in, and Harry was smirking as he answered her earlier question.  
  
"I don't know where she is, but I'm sure she'd like to be somewhere snogging with Seamus Finnigan." He grinned. "Oh, and by the way. Don't swear."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes before turning back to the mirror and tugging at her hair in a rather rough manner. "I hate my hair!"  
  
"You should have left it curly," Ron commented straight-forwardly.  
  
Hermione scowled at her reflection. "I hated it worse then."  
  
"I think it looks nice," Harry said finally. "Who are you trying to impress anyway?"  
  
"Only a hundred people I haven't seen in four years," she answered droningly.  
  
"How'd you do your hair for the Ball?" Ron crossed the room and perched himself on her bed. "You know, when you had the little ringlet thingies." He twirled his finger around his head to illustrate.  
  
"Lavender did it." She rolled her eyes. "Like I said, where the hell is Lavender Brown when you need her?"  
  
"I dunno," Ron shrugged. "I've never really needed her, so I wouldn't know where to find her."  
  
Hermione sent him a short but rather contemptuous glare before yanking at her hair once again. "Eurgh!!!"  
  
"You're going to pull your hair out," Harry said simply before shaking his head. "Just leave it, Hermione. It looks fine."  
  
"Hold this," she instructed him, completely ignoring his comment. She handed him a hair brush and reached for a clip, which she deftly placed in her mouth as she used her hands to pull half of her hair off of her neck. She twisted it into a tight knot and then used the clip to hold it into place. Little pieces stuck out all over her head, but she smiled despite herself. It was different, and she liked it. She reached for another tiny clip and started pinning up some of loose pieces until she had half of her hair up and secured with pieces protruding out in different places and the rest of her hair down and straight. She turned to the boys after looking at herself for a long moment. "How's this?"  
  
"Magnificent," Harry answered with a slight roll of the eyes. "It's fine, Hermione."  
  
Hermione frowned at him and turned to Ron. Raising her eyebrows in question, she awaited his opinion.  
  
"It looks good, Hermione," he said honestly. "You've never worn it like that before. It's really nice."  
  
She hesitated for a moment before finally smiling a little and nodding. She glanced once more in the mirror before addressing the other two again. "You two better get changed. People will be here soon, and where's Gia?"  
  
"I'm gonna go get her," Harry answered. "After I get dressed."  
  
"Then go," she said as she motioned toward the door. "I have to change, too."  
  
The boys left to go change into the suits that they'd picked out the day before in London. Discarding her own clothes, Hermione reached for her bathrobe and wrapped it around her before turning to her closet where the dress was hanging, still covered in the bag they'd given her at the store. She pulled it out and smiled. It really was beautiful. It was spaghetti strapped and silky with a shimmery over lay of a slightly darker red than the material of the actual dress. She'd found some strappy heels that matched the color perfectly, and her only fear was that she would trip and fall in them. They definitely weren't like any other shoes she'd ever worn; they were much higher, and the heel was so thin she wasn't sure she would even be able to walk in them. But they were simply too cute to pass up.  
  
She sighed softly as she had this thought.  
  
She really was turning into Lavender and Parvati.  
  
Shaking her head to herself, she sat down at her vanity and opened the lid to reveal the makeup that her mother had bought for her the summer before. She'd taken some of it to Hogwarts with her, but the majority still lay exactly where she'd left it. Glancing into the mirror, she wondered briefly why she was making such an effort for this party, but she shrugged the thought away and reached for the foundation. Luckily, she was naturally quite brown, so the tone she'd bought during the summer still matched in the middle of winter. She applied it, careful not to add too much in any one place and to make sure that it was all blended in. When she was satisfied with the base coat, she studied the tray of different eye colors. Settling on a shimmery silver color, she gently brushed some onto her eyelids before opening them and smiling. Still grinning, she pulled out a tube of black mascara and raised the wand to her lashes, coating them, separating them, lengthening them, and curling them all in one swipe. It was almost like magic. Reaching for a tube of lipstick, she hesitated. The color was a dark red that matched the dress perfectly, but was it too much? She tested it out and saw that it was a bit much, but then she remembered a trick that Parvati always used. She placed the lid back on the tube and grabbed a tube of clear lip gloss. After applying it over the color, she saw that it did, in fact, make the color appear less bolder while giving her lips a shiny overcoat.  
  
Next, she glanced at her fingernails and toenails which she'd painted a deep scarlet color the night before. She'd felt a little silly doing it because it made her feel like too much of a girly girl, but now she appreciated it. It matched the décor perfectly.  
  
Another knock on her door made her jump again. "Who is it?" she called, preparing to curse the boys out for disturbing her again.  
  
"It's Mum," came the answer.  
  
Hermione got up and let her in, standing behind the door while her mother entered. Mrs. Granger was dressed in a long sleeved black dress, and her hair was done up in a knot at the back of her head. She was a very beautiful woman, and when Hermione was younger, she'd often wondered how she turned out so ugly when she had such a beautiful mother. But as she looked at her then, she noticed for the first time the similarities that she and her mother shared. The brown hair was one, though Mrs. Granger's had always been straight and smooth, never bushy and curly and knotty as Hermione's naturally was. Their eyes were the same, both the exact same color as their hair and framed by thick black lashes. They were both rather petite, but Mrs. Granger had a very nice womanly figure, which Hermione had apparently not inherited. She had filled out a bit, but she was still basically skinny and, for the most part, quite flat in places that many other girls had long since developed.  
  
"Wow, Mum," she said with a smile as she shut the door behind them. "You look amazing."  
  
"And look at you," her mother said quietly.  
  
"Does my hair look okay?" she asked self-consciously. "I asked the boys, but, you know... They're boys."  
  
Her mother smiled. "It looks beautiful. I was just coming to see if you needed any help, but it looks like you've got everything under control."  
  
Hermione nodded a bit and turned toward the dress, which was now draped across her bed. "Could you help me with my dress? The zipper sticks."  
  
Nodding, Mrs. Granger watched as Hermione lifted the dress up and handed it to her. She glanced down at it. "Wow," she said admirably. "How much did this cost?"  
  
Hermione turned a bit red and shrugged. "Um... I don't really remember..."  
  
"You've never been a good liar," her mother commented lazily as she turned the tag over. "Hermione!" She looked up at her daughter in shock.  
  
Hermione bit down on her lower lip. "It was the only thing I could find..."  
  
Her mother gave her a Look.  
  
"Okay, but it was so pretty, Mum!" She looked up desperately. "I'll pay for some it..."  
  
Her mother sighed and shook her head. "No... Just don't tell your father how much it cost."  
  
Hermione smiled softly. "Thank you."  
  
Shaking her head again, Mrs. Granger undid the safety pin, which was holding the tag in place, and removed it. Hermione dropped the bathrobe and let her mother help her into the dress. She turned around and waited as her mother carefully worked the zipper past the sticking point. When she was finally in the dress, she turned to the mirror and glanced at herself. Her mother grinned and reached for the box containing the shoes. She pulled them out and shook her head.  
  
"Make sure you don't fall in these things," she said as she motioned for Hermione to sit on the bed. Hermione did as she was told and waited as her mother pulled the desk chair up and placed the heels on her feet, strapping them up and holding her hands out to her daughter as she pulled her into a standing position. When Hermione was on her feet, she walked to the mirror and peered in at herself curiously.  
  
"You look so beautiful," her mother commented quietly from behind her.  
  
Hermione bit down on her lower lip nervously. "You have to say that because you're my mother."  
  
"I don't have to do anything," Mrs. Granger answered haughtily. "That's the good thing about being the mother."  
  
Hermione tried to smile, but it was hard. Something was toying with her mind, and she couldn't think of anything else. Sighing, she turned to her mother and looked at her carefully. "Mum, can I ask you a question?"  
  
Her mother smiled and nodded. "You can ask me anything, Sweetheart."  
  
Hermione nodded, hesitating for a long moment. Feeling her cheeks heat up a bit, she finally managed the question. "How do you know... how do you know if a boy likes you?"  
  
It was obvious that Mrs. Granger was trying very hard to bite down the smile, which was threatening to protrude from her lips. Succeeding somewhat, she looked at her daughter and asked a very serious, one-worded question. "Ron?"  
  
Hermione's initial reaction was to deny this and state that she was asking the question hypothetically. However, her mother had been right when she'd said she was a horrible liar. And plus, she'd been dying to tell someone but hadn't had the opportunity. Sighing, she nodded a little. "Yeah."  
  
"So, you do fancy him," her mother stated, grinning.  
  
Hermione turned a little red but answered honestly. "It's more than just fancying him, Mum... I like him so much- it's crazy."  
  
Smiling fondly, her mother sat down on the bed and motioned for Hermione to join her. Hermione reluctantly did so and waited as her mother seemed to be gathering her thoughts. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, her mother turned to her and said, "Do you think he likes you back?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yeah. I do." She frowned. "But he just want do anything about it."  
  
Mrs. Granger raised a single eyebrow. "He doesn't need to do anything about it." She emphasized the word 'do.'  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Please, Mum. I'm fifteen years old."  
  
Sighing, her mother nodded carefully. "I know..." she said wistfully. "Trust me, I know."  
  
Hermione bit down on her lower lip again and ducked her head a bit. "I don't think he'll do anything about it, but I really want him to..." She was speaking quietly.  
  
"Is this the same way you felt about Viktor?"  
  
Hermione looked up, shaking her head. "I didn't even like Viktor," she admitted softly. "I thought I did, but now I think I was just flattered that someone actually liked me." Her mother nodded knowingly and waited for Hermione to continue. "But I just never felt like this around him. It's so weird. I think the only reason I even went to that stupid ball with him in the first place was because Harry and Ron were being total jerks. Going on and on about how they would only go with a pretty girl even if she was completely awful." Hermione scowled slightly at the memory.  
  
"Well, you are pretty," her mother pointed out gently.  
  
Hermione just looked up doubtfully. "Mum, I haven't always looked like this, remember?"  
  
Mrs. Granger simply looked on curiously, not saying anything else.  
  
"And then Ron did ask me but only because he'd already been turned down by his first choice and he didn't really have any other options."  
  
"But you were already going with Viktor?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yeah. And now I don't know if he'd like me if I still looked the way I used to."  
  
"Do you really think he's that shallow?"  
  
Hermione frowned and reluctantly shook her head. "No... But it still hurt my feelings when he acted like that. Like I wasn't good enough for first choice or something."  
  
Mrs. Granger sighed softly. "Honey, that's just boys for you. They can be completely thick until something makes them snap into reality."  
  
Hermione gave her own soft sigh. "I just want to make sure that it's right, you know? Before anything happens, I just want to know that it's the right thing for us."  
  
"You have plenty of time to find the right thing," her mother advised seriously. "Hermione, you're only fifteen."  
  
"I know." Hermione shook her head as if she didn't know how to explain it. "But sometimes I feel so much older than that. I mean, we- Harry, Ron, and I- have been through so much. Way more than most normal fifteen year olds."  
  
"That's because you're not normal fifteen year olds," her mother answered amusedly.  
  
Hermione laughed despite herself. "Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I were just normal."  
  
"You might be best friends with Gia Martin," her mother teased good- naturedly.  
  
Hermione laughed again. "Gia's not as bad as she used to be. I guess she's grown up a lot."  
  
"Well, she's been through a lot, too," her mother pointed out.  
  
Hermione was confused for a moment before she caught onto what her mother meant. "I forgot all about that..." she said quietly. When Jane Martin had died, they'd only been in their first year of primary school. It was around the time of her mother's death that Gia had turned into a sort of bully, but Hermione hadn't pieced that together when they were younger. And over the years, she'd simply forgotten all about it. Now, everything seemed to click into place. "I wonder if Harry knows about that..."  
  
Her mother raised her eyebrows. "They have more in common than you thought, huh?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "I guess it's good in a way. I mean, it's still weird because it's Harry and it's this girl I grew up with who I always disliked greatly... But I guess they both need someone who understands."  
  
"Fate works in mysterious ways."  
  
"You know what's so weird about Ron and me, though?" she asked, looking back up. "I've never met anyone in my entire life who can make me as angry as he can. We fight all the time- I mean all the time."  
  
"Opposites attract..."  
  
"But he's also the only person in the world who would burp up slugs for me..." Hermione murmured to herself.  
  
"I almost forgot!" her mother spoke up, obviously not hearing Hermione's earlier comment. "Ron's mother sent an owl this morning. She wants all of you over there tomorrow for Christmas lunch."  
  
"You keep forgetting everything."  
  
Her mother rolled her eyes. "I know. But anyway, I meant to tell you all this morning, but it slipped my mind."  
  
"So, we get to go to the Burrow tomorrow?" Her mother nodded with a smile, obviously still a bit amused at the fact that the Weasley house was so commonly referred to as 'The Burrow.' Hermione grinned. "I have to tell Ron."  
  
"You need to tell Ron a lot of things," Mrs. Granger said quite pointedly.  
  
Hermione pursed her lips stubbornly. "He should be the one to do the telling."  
  
Her mother smirked and shook her head as she stood up. "This is a modern world, Hermione. Be your own woman."  
  
Hermione looked down, thinking everything over. Maybe she would take things into her own hands.  
  
Mrs. Granger turned to leave. "I have guests arriving shortly. I'll see you downstairs."  
  
"Mum," Hermione spoke up before her mother could leave. Mrs. Granger turned and looked at her in question. Hermione stood up and smiled softly. "Thanks..."  
  
Mrs. Granger smiled back and crossed the room once more to where her only child was standing. "You can always ask me anything, you know?"  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
Still smiling, Mrs. Granger reached out and carefully smoothed the sides of her daughter's hair before leaning over and kissing her forehead gently. "I'll see you later."  
  
When her mother left, Hermione turned back to the mirror and studied herself for a long, long moment. She studied her hair and her make-up and her outfit. And she had one wonderful thought.  
  
Red was a beautiful color, and it complimented her perfectly...  
  
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Well? Just a little side-shot here. Nothing really happened, but I thought a woman to woman talk would be in order for everything that Hermione's going through right now.  
  
The next chapter will be the party!  
  
Please leave feedback!!!  
  
PS- Go see 8 Mile! Eminem is SOOOOOO freaking hot!!!! 


	40. Christmas Eve

A/N: Thanks to everyone who left feedback! Everyone who agreed and said that Eminem is hot is now my new best friend!  
  
Disclaimer: FANfiction...  
  
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"It is freezing out here!" Gia shivered in illustration as she wrapped her calf-length black coat tighter around her.  
  
Harry glanced at her and grinned as they walked through the streets of her neighborhood on their way back to Hermione's house. "Well, of course it's cold," he told her teasingly. "It's December and look what you're wearing."  
  
She rolled her eyes at him and playfully punched him before reaching for his hand and pulling him closer to her. When he was close enough, she dropped his hand and pressed herself against them as they walked; his arm went around her waist, and they grinned at each other.  
  
To be perfectly honest, he appreciated what she was wearing to the fullest extent possible. Of course, you really couldn't see it now because of the heavy overcoat, but she had on a navy blue formal gown that she'd used for her cousin's wedding reception. It wasn't too fancy, but it was fancy enough to give her a very elegant look when she'd opened the door earlier. Her blonde curls were down and flowing beautifully. Harry thought she looked stunning.  
  
And he told her so as they walked together down the street.  
  
"You look really pretty," he said quietly, causing her to turn her head and look at him shyly.  
  
"Thank you," she replied just as quietly, with the smallest hint of a smile.  
  
"Beautiful, even," he added seriously, dropping his arm and once again reaching for her hand, pulling them both to a slow stop. She looked at him curiously for a moment but didn't resist when he turned his head and caught her mouth with his own. In fact, she returned the kiss, slowly but sweetly. Turning even closer to him, she allowed her free hand to rise slowly up his arm and over his shoulder to rest at the nape of his neck, where her fingers played mindlessly in his messy hair.  
  
It was hard to explain what he felt when he kissed her. True, he'd never kissed any other girl, but he was positive that it couldn't feel like this.  
  
In the days since their first kiss, they'd gotten quite a lot of practice in, and they no longer blushed or stole nervous glances afterwards. And when they pulled apart for air, he looked straight into her eyes, and they shared a bright smile.  
  
Gia moved her other arm up, too, until both of them were wrapped around his neck, and she looked up at him warmly. "It's like magic," she said with a grin.  
  
Knocked a bit off by her off-handed statement, he furrowed his eyebrows slightly and looked at her curiously. "What is?"  
  
"Everything about you."  
  
The analogy sent a strange feeling through him, and he smiled despite himself. Without replying, he lowered his head and kissed her again as his hand found the small of her back and pulled her closer.  
  
She was right.  
  
This was a magic all of its own- one that didn't require wands, incantations, spells, or potions.  
  
It was definitely his new favorite subject.  
  
Leaning up, he looked down at her and couldn't help but feel all sorts of happy little feelings. "I wanted to do that now," he explained with slightly raised brows, "because I'm not sure if I'll get another chance tonight."  
  
She bit down slightly on her lower lip, and his eyes darted there out of instinct. "Well, I could kiss you all night long," she said quietly.  
  
He grinned at her, quite inclined to take her up on the offer. "Maybe you should then," he said seriously. "Maybe that would improve my chances of not getting killed by Hermione's dad before the end of holiday."  
  
She wrinkled up her nose curiously. "Huh?"  
  
He laughed and shook his head. "Nothing. Just maybe he would finally believe that I'm not after Hermione, and he wouldn't have to follow through on the death threats he gave Ron and me."  
  
Gia caught on and smirked. "At least not on the ones he gave you..."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes and sent her a mock-glare. "Oh, shut up."  
  
She stood up on her tiptoes until their noses were almost meeting. In an inviting whisper, she said, "Make me."  
  
Harry grinned at her before doing just that. He caught her lips and kissed her deeply, so deeply, in fact, that she had to lower herself back to flat feet, wrapping her arms even tighter around his neck so as to not lose an inch of contact with him.  
  
When they finally parted, she didn't loosen her grip at all. Instead, she just beamed up at him as he asked her a question.  
  
"Did it work?"  
  
She raised her eyebrows. "Must have because I can't think of a damn thing to say."  
  
"Are you warmer now?"  
  
She hugged him tightly and buried her face into the front of his coat as she mumbled a contented, "Toasty."  
  
After a moment, Harry reluctantly pulled away from her embrace and once again reached for her hand. "We'd better go. We're going to be late as it is."  
  
She nodded and sighed before they started walking once again towards the Grangers' house. When they caught sight of it, they were both instantly shocked; cars lined the driveway and both sides of the street for a block.  
  
"Wow, I didn't expect this many people," Harry said as they made their way through the maze of automobiles and up to the front door.  
  
Once on the doorstep, they both hesitated for a moment. Sounds of the party could be heard clearly, and through the windows, they could see hoards of nicely dressed adults crowding the front rooms.  
  
"Do we have to knock?" Gia asked uncertainly.  
  
Harry had no idea, so he shrugged. "I dunno. I don't guess so..."  
  
Gia glanced at the door. "Well, you sort of live here for the time being, so I guess it's okay if we just go in, right?"  
  
He shrugged again. "I guess so."  
  
As they slipped into the foyer, no one even glanced their way, as everyone was far too involved in their own conversations. Harry immediately felt nervous in the large group of people he'd never before met or seen.  
  
"What should we do with our coats?" Gia whispered as she, too, surveyed the room of people.  
  
"I guess in my room," Harry answered back with a shrug. They slipped up the stairs to his room and safely deposited their coats on his bed; it was so strange to be so quiet upstairs when the downstairs was jam packed with people chattering and a soft elevator music.  
  
They caught sight of Ron and Hermione for the first time when they went back down to the party. Both of the other teenagers were standing quite close together in a corner, obviously trying very hard not to be noticed. His friends looked up when Harry arrived at their side with Gia seconds later.  
  
"I didn't know it was going to be this big," Harry said, glancing around once more.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "I don't remember this many people ever being here before. I don't even know half of them."  
  
"You look great, Hermione!" Gia said brightly. Harry nodded with agreement, and his best female friend smiled shyly.  
  
"Thanks. You do, too."  
  
Gia grinned and offered her own thanks.  
  
Harry glanced at Ron and noticed for the first time that he hadn't spoken. This might have been because he was far too busy staring at Hermione, but Harry couldn't be quite sure...  
  
A rather loud squeal caused all four teenagers to jump in surprise as a woman in her late thirties rushed over and immediately wrapped Hermione in what looked like a bone-crushing hug. The look on Hermione's face was priceless as her eyes widened in shock before she forced her face into a smile and said, "Aunt Cheryl!" in the same perky voice she'd used the first time they'd seen Gia and Celeste.  
  
"Hermione Lavinia Juliet Granger!" her aunt stepped back and held her niece at arm's length as she surveyed her.  
  
Harry and Ron caught each other's eyes and shared a brief snicker. They'd always enjoyed teasing Hermione over the fact that she had two middle names and a total of thirteen syllables in her full name. And, of course, the fact that all of her names, minus her surname, happened to the name of a character in a Shakespearean play- apparently, her mother was a huge fan. They never passed up the chance to point out that it was a good thing she hadn't been a boy, or else her name might have been Romeo Macbeth Hamlet Granger.  
  
She was never amused.  
  
"I haven't seen you in forever!" the lady said giddily. "And look at you! Your hair, your dress... You're gorgeous!"  
  
Hermione turned about the color of her dress and managed a quiet, "Thanks..."  
  
"Are who are these young people?" Cheryl turned to survey the other three teenagers who were all looking at her with curious faces.  
  
"Oh!" Hermione jumped a bit. "I'm sorry. These are my friends from school, Aunt Helen." She motioned to each boy as she named them. "This is Harry, and this is Ron." Then she motioned to Gia. "And this is my friend from primary school, Gia."  
  
It was the first time that she'd referred to Gia as a friend, and the girls shared a brief grin with each other before Hermione continued.  
  
"And this is my Aunt Cheryl," she explained to the other kids. "She's my mother's sister."  
  
This wasn't hard to tell. She had the same petite frame and silky brown hair as Linda Granger. In fact, they looked almost like twins.  
  
A round of "nice to meet yous" went around before Cheryl smirked mischievously at the boys and said, "Now, which one you two is more than just a friend?"  
  
Ron went incredibly red and looked at the ground, Hermione looked as if she wanted the earth to swallow her up, and Harry instinctively reached for Gia's hand. This, of course, earned a rather sharp glare from a rather scarlet-faced Ron and an amused smirk from Hermione's aunt.  
  
"We're all just friends," Hermione said quickly before anyone could start jumping around and making assumptions that would undoubtedly embarrass two of the four teenagers and sicken a third.  
  
Another unconvinced little grin gave way that Cheryl didn't necessarily believe her niece but wasn't going to dwell on the issue. Instead, she grabbed Hermione's hand and said, "Your uncle will want to see you. Come with me, Dear," and pulled her off in the opposite direction, leaving Harry, Ron, and Gia all standing together in the same corner in a room full of strangers.  
  
Gia turned to the boys and raised her eyebrows. "Is her name really Hermione Lavinia Juliet Granger?"  
  
Ron and Harry instantly burst into laughter and nodded. "Yeah," Harry confirmed, grinning. "Can you believe that?"  
  
Gia just looked dumbfounded as she shook her head and muttered, "Holy shit..." before excusing herself to make a run to the bathroom.  
  
When Ron and Harry were alone, Ron filled Harry in on what Hermione had told him before his arrival. "My mum sent an owl and wants us all over there tomorrow for lunch."  
  
"Really? Cool." Harry grinned. "I bet your mother makes a fantastic Christmas dinner, doesn't she?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "Well, not as good as the feast at Hogwarts."  
  
"Yeah, but she doesn't have as many people to feed, either," Harry pointed.  
  
"She almost does," Ron said with a roll of the eyes. Then he glanced around and said, "Hey, do you think all these people know about Hermione?"  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You know," Ron lowered his voice. "About her being a witch."  
  
Harry hadn't even thought about that, and he looked around at the room full of Muggles. "Probably not all of them."  
  
"Probably not all of them what?" Hermione had returned and was now standing behind the boys looking quite curious as to what they were discussing.  
  
"How many of these people know about Hogwarts?" Ron asked quietly.  
  
Hermione shrugged. "I think just my parents and my grandparents. We didn't really tell anyone else. Where's Gia?"  
  
"In the bathroom," Harry answered absently as he took in the crowd of people around him. "Where are your parents anyway?"  
  
She shrugged again. "I haven't seen them at all actually. They're around here somewhere."  
  
Gia chose that moment to show back up, and the four of them spent the next hour and a half mingling mostly with themselves and greeting various members of Hermione's extended family. The party didn't actually get interesting until Linda Granger rushed over to the four of them laughing loudly with one of her friends.  
  
The friend immediately wrapped Hermione into a hug and started gushing over how pretty she looked and how wonderful it was to see her. Of course, this was done through several failed attempts at complete sentences, broken apart with guffaws of laughter shared by the two older women.  
  
Hermione stared blankly at them through all of this until Mrs. Granger seemed to be struck by a brilliant idea and said, "Hermione! You can play the piano!"  
  
Ron, Harry, and Gia all tried very hard not to laugh at the look of stunned disbelief that covered Hermione's face slowly. "Mum... Are you drunk?"  
  
"No, I'm not drunk," she said through shared giggles with her friend as she turned up a glass of wine and downed the last of it. Hermione stared silently at her, obviously not knowing what to say. Mrs. Granger proceeded to turn around and yell loudly across the room for her husband. "Charles! Come here!"  
  
Mr. Granger bounded over immediately with a rather out of place smile covering his normally grave face. He grinned when he reached the teenagers and even winked knowingly at Harry, who's hand was still clasped in Gia's.  
  
"Charles," Mrs. Granger said through bubbly giggles. "Don't you think Hermione should play for us?"  
  
"I think that's a grand idea!" he said loud and boisterously.  
  
Hermione put her fingertips to her temples and turned away muttering, "My parents are drunk... My parents are drunk in public... My parents are drunk..."  
  
Harry saw Ron trying desperately to stifle a laugh, but it appeared to be an attempt made in vain. He glanced at Gia and saw that she, too, seemed quite amused by the sight of the two serious dentists drunk and gleeful.  
  
It was almost too hard of a task to watch them and not laugh.  
  
"Hermione," her mother took a step toward her daughter but tripped slightly and had to be caught by her friend, causing all three adults to erupt into hilarious laughter. When she finally recovered, she tried again. "Hermione, what are you going to play for us?"  
  
Hermione turned to look at her with narrowed eyes. "I'm not playing anything, Mother."  
  
"Oh, Honey... Don't be such a drag, Hermione."  
  
"A drag?!" Hermione looked at her mother incredulously before turning to the other teenagers and asking if she'd heard correctly. "Did my mother just tell me not to be a drag?!"  
  
This was just far too much, and Harry, Ron, and Gia all started laughing against their own will- partly from the actual events but mostly from the look on Hermione's face during the whole thing.  
  
"Oh!" Her mother suddenly started waving like madly, and one of the hired servers stopped by them with a tray of full wine glasses. Mrs. Granger placed her empty glass on the tray and took another one.  
  
Mr. Granger then proceeded to drink the last bit of his and do the same. Just as the server was about to leave, though, he took four more glasses off the tray and handed one each to Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Gia.  
  
"Have some fun," he said good-naturedly. "We'll see you later."  
  
The adults walked off, apparently forgetting that Hermione was supposed to be playing Christmas carols for all of their friends.  
  
A stunned silence entailed as all four teenagers stared at the glasses in their hands. Finally, Hermione looked up and started stuttering again.  
  
"My parents are drunk... And they gave us alcohol?"  
  
Gia grinned and shrugged. "They seem pretty cool to me!"  
  
Harry and Ron both laughed, and Hermione sent them all a sharp glare. "Don't even think about drinking it," she warned seriously. "They don't know what they're doing. We can't drink this- it's illegal."  
  
Two heads turned slowly in the direction of each other, and Harry and Ron shared a long look of disbelief before both bursting into laughter at exactly the same time.  
  
Hermione sent them both looks that could kill, and Gia, confused, asked what was so funny.  
  
"Nothing!" Hermione snapped.  
  
Harry and Ron continued to snicker. Harry turned his head to Gia and answered, completely ignoring Hermione's glare. "It's just that the last time Hermione lectured us about not doing things that were illegal..." He broke off, not able to finish through his laughter. "Oh, man...  
  
"The last time she gave us this lecture," Ron broke in with a grin, "she ended up so drunk she couldn't even stand, much less walk."  
  
Harry laughed loudly, and Gia looked at Hermione with stunned disbelief. In a shocked but amused voice, she said, "Hermione, you got drunk?!"  
  
"No, I did not," she said sharply, glaring at her so-called best friends.  
  
Both of the said friends smirked and said, "Yes, she did," at exactly the same time, causing Gia to burst into laughter with them.  
  
"That's great!" the blonde exclaimed through giggles. "I definitely would never have thought that you... Well, good for you!"  
  
Hermione just looked at all of them in disbelief. "We are not drinking this," she said sternly.  
  
"Oh, lighten up, Hermione," Ron said with a slight eye-roll. "It's just a little wine." He turned to the other two. "I'm in- who else is?"  
  
Harry and Gia glanced at each other before grinning and clinking their glasses together with Ron's. All three of them then raised the glasses to their lips and started to drink.  
  
Hermione glared at them ruefully for a long moment, until she heard her mother speaking (very loudly) to one of her aunts and telling them that Hermione was going to play them all some music on the piano.  
  
She glared angrily across the room, and the other three teens laughed. Rolling her eyes, Hermione muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, "Bloody hell," before clinking her glass with Harry's and turning it up.  
  
************************************  
  
Okay, so I know this one was a bit broken up, but I didn't really ever have too much planned for this party. The next chapter won't pick up here, but it will start on Christmas morning and include flashbacks of the night. So, you will get to see what happened during bits and pieces of the rest of the party.  
  
Please leave feedback!!!  
  
PS- I really want to know people's opinions on Gia. I'm still getting very mixed reactions about her. Please tell me whether you like her or hate her. Don't forget to tell me why you feel one way or the other~! Thanks! 


	41. Christmas at the Burrow

A/N: Well, I still got very mixed reactions about Gia. It seems that everyone who hates Gia hates her because they want Harry to be with Ginny. Well, Ginny is one of my favorite characters, but I don't particularly care for stories that pair Harry with Ginny simply because they want to make one big Weasley family (Hermione and Ron... Ginny and Harry...) I'd rather have substance and reasoning behind my pairings. So, I guess we'll just have to wait and see what happens, right? (Haha, I already know).  
  
Thanks for all the feedback! This chapter is quite long but rather entertaining.  
  
Disclaimer: If I could own anything, it would be these characters. However, that's never going to happen.  
  
***********************************  
  
The next morning, Hermione had one horrifying memory of the night before.  
  
She had actually sat down at the piano and played for a good fifteen minutes.  
  
Knowing that she would never quite live that one down with Ron and Harry, she was thankful at least that she had a partial excuse. Three glasses of wine had not made her drunk but had left her tipsy enough that she needed no encouragement in sitting down on the piano bench and taking requests for Christmas carols. In fact, she'd been quite proud of the fact that she remembered how to play so well, considering the fact that she hadn't even glanced at a piece of sheet music in four years.  
  
Gia had been very close to getting completely pissed; it seemed that her tolerance was even lower than Hermione's, which was surprising, as she admitted to partying quite a bit on a pretty regular basis. The boys were obviously bigger than them, so it obviously took more to get them drunk. However, neither of them had any real experience in drinking, so it didn't take quite as much as it should have to get them tipsy.  
  
This, of course, had turned out to be quite amusing and rather profound all in its own.  
  
Harry and Gia had obviously given up completely on any sort of privacy rule and were quite contented to make out right in the middle of the stairs without a thought to anyone else. Of course, the only people who really paid them any attention were Ron and Hermione, as nearly every adult in attendance was very much drunk by halfway through the night. And when Ron disappeared to use the bathroom, Mrs. Granger had pulled Hermione aside and even said, "You should take a page out of Gia's book..." with a telling wink at her only child. Hermione had, in return, simply cringed and prayed to any deity she could recall that her mother wasn't drunk enough to go around dropping statements confessed in secrecy.  
  
There had been two very telling moments that stood out distinctly in Hermione's mind, though. And for both of these, she had the strangest desire to write a thank you letter to whoever had discovered alcohol.  
  
The first had come while she and Ron were doing their best to avoid her grandparents and had slipped into the hallway. The hiding spot they'd found also happened to be the perfect place to spy on Harry and Gia- both of whom looked far too caught up in the other to even notice that anyone was watching them. However, they probably didn't care, either.  
  
Ron had whispered a question to her as they both looked on at their friends. "Would you just do that out in public like that?"  
  
Hermione took a sip of her wine and shook her head in response. "No."  
  
He had grinned at her and slyly caught her hand up in his own, pulling her a little closer and whispering, "Me, either. I'd rather be alone with you."  
  
The words had stunned her for a moment, and she'd looked at him with slightly raised eyebrows. "With me?"  
  
He had simply grinned and shrugged before nodding slightly and adding, "Yeah, with you."  
  
She had just been on the verge of asking him if he would like to be alone with her right then, but her grandmother chose that moment to find them and insist that they come back into the party after casting a sidelong glance at their friends who were quite occupied on the stairs.  
  
The other moment had come much later in the night when a good number of the guests had already gone home. Hermione had been helping people find their coats, and she was just passing through the living room when she felt someone grab her arm. Turning around, she saw Ron grinning slyly at her as he pulled her closer and carefully leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. She looked at him curiously, but he simply lifted his eyes upward to show what had caused the sudden (but welcome) affection.  
  
Mistletoe.  
  
It was the same sprig that she had watched her parents make use of for a good three minutes straight earlier in the night. Of course, that had sickened her slightly. This had the exact opposite effect.  
  
He grinned again and quietly said, "I've been waiting to do that all night."  
  
Appreciating every second of this greatly, she'd smiled and said, "Well, why don't you do it again?"  
  
And he did. He placed his lips back on her cheek and let them linger there for a bit longer than was necessary. Then, he turned his head slightly and whispered into her ear, causing her to shiver- both from the feel of his hot breath on her cool skin and from the words he spoke.  
  
"You look amazing."  
  
She turned her head slightly and looked at him, not sure of what to do or say.  
  
He paused for a moment before continuing to whisper with his face still only inches from her ear. "You always look amazing."  
  
Knowing fully well that the alcohol he'd drank was the only thing giving him enough courage to be this open, she waited breathlessly for his next words.  
  
He pulled back slightly and carefully raised a hand to her hair, letting his fingers run through the smooth locks at the side of her face. "And you shouldn't worry so much about your hair," he went on quietly, "because it always looks great." He caught her eye and added, "It always has."  
  
He moved his hands to her shoulders and pulled back to study her intently for several moments before saying, "And the make-up is nice, but you don't need it." He leaned back in, with his hands still resting against her shoulders, and whispered, "Why would you need to try and improve what's already perfect?"  
  
Her eyes fluttered shut at his words, and she waited with baited breath for whatever he was about to say... or do next. She knew that she was in terrible trouble at that moment because the second he'd said those words, she'd realized that she had absolutely no self-control when it came to him. She was scared and excited and thrilled and nervous all at the same time.  
  
But the only thought that made any sense in her mind at that moment was how badly she wanted him to just do it. She just wanted him to kiss her and get it over with because her self-restraint wasn't going to hold up for much longer when he kept dropping such random and loose compliments.  
  
However, the very second that she could feel the first sign of Ron's breath against her lips, the sound of her father's voice coming through the next room immediately caused both teenagers to jump apart quickly. They might have been slightly tipsy, but neither of them was stupid enough to want to get caught by her dad, no matter how good of a mood he might have been in.  
  
And these were the thoughts on her mind as she stepped out of the fireplace and into the Burrow's living room the next afternoon. She was the first of the three to make the Floo trip, and she was greeted by Ginny, who was in the living room at the moment that she arrived.  
  
Ginny immediately jumped up and rushed over to her, hugging her as if she hadn't just seen her a couple of weeks ago. "Thank God!" she exclaimed the second Hermione arrived.  
  
Hermione laughed and looked at her a bit strangely. "What's up?"  
  
"This has been the most boring holiday ever!" she exclaimed. "I've been waiting on you guys to get here since the second day."  
  
"Why's it so boring?"  
  
"Because it's just the twins and me, and Mum has been absolutely livid the whole time. She's gone mad, I'm telling you. One second she's screaming at us and the next she's baking up a storm." She rolled her eyes slightly. "I'll be glad when she's not pregnant anymore and goes back to being normal."  
  
Ginny said all of this very quickly, and Hermione was laughing when Ron stepped out of the fireplace, coughing a bit and dusting extra soot off of him. Ginny gave a small shriek and literally raced across the room and flung herself at her older brother, wrapping her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. Hermione giggled at the look on Ron's face as he stared incredulously at the top of his sister's head before pushing her off of him and looking at her as if she'd just lost her mind.  
  
"What is your problem?"  
  
Ginny just flung her head back in frustration and said, "Please don't leave again! Please stay here until we can finally go back to school! Please- I can't stand it much longer!"  
  
Ron looked at his slightly overdramatic sister for another bewildered moment before sending the same questioning look in Hermione's direction. She just smiled slightly and shrugged.  
  
"Ron, you are getting ashes everywhere." Molly Weasley stepped into the living room wiping her hands on the apron she had draped over her dress. She stopped for a moment as if she'd just realized what she'd said and turned back around. "Ron!" she cried in delight, spinning around to hug her youngest son. She then turned to Hermione and gave her the same sort of greeting. "You look lovely, Dear," she complimented pulling out of the hug. "Where's Harry?"  
  
"Right..." Harry stepped out of the fireplace, coughing loudly, "...here."  
  
Mrs. Weasley beamed as she hurried over to greet the third member of their trio with the same warm embrace that she'd given the first two. She then took to dusting some of the soot away from Harry's clothes as he still struggled with a coughing fit. When she was satisfied that they were all cleaned up well enough, she hurried them into the kitchen and settled them all at her table. Wafty smells of baking turkey and ham filled the air.  
  
"Lunch won't start for another hour or so," she explained quickly. "But you're all welcome to a snack."  
  
"No thank you," Hermione said politely. "We just had breakfast not too long ago."  
  
"Oh, pishposh," Mrs. Weasley said dismissively. "You need something to eat. Now, what would you like?"  
  
"What'd you make for dessert?" Ron asked keenly.  
  
His mother looked crossly at him for a moment. "Dessert is for dessert," she asserted simply. Then, turning to her only daughter, who had sat down at the table with the others, she said, "Ginny, get them something to drink and some biscuits."  
  
Ginny looked at her mother with contempt. "Why can't Ron get them? He lives here, too."  
  
Mrs. Weasley looked sharply at her only daughter, giving off a very clear and definitive answer with her eyes.  
  
Ginny scowled and glared across the table at Ron, who was smirking superiorly back. Shoving her chair back from the table, Ginny stood up in a huff and headed toward the pantry. She was obviously over the "Oh, Ron, you're my favorite brother. Please stay here for the rest of holiday!" mood.  
  
"I'll help," Hermione offered quickly, standing up and going to help the other girl get some drinks together. Around the corner, they heard the twins come in and greet the other boys. As they fixed the snack, Mrs. Weasley asked how the holiday had been.  
  
Harry said it had been fine. And Ron laughed and said, "It's been more than fine for him. Harry's got a girlfriend."  
  
Hermione looked around the door and saw Harry turn a brilliant shade of red as Fred, George, and Mrs. Weasley all started in with the pestering of who she was and when and how and where.  
  
Without really meaning to or even thinking about it, Hermione happened to glance Ginny from the corner of her eye. At Ron's words, her hands had stilled and she looked down at the floor silently. Hermione watched as she finally looked back up and set the plate of biscuits on the counter before turning around and going up the stairs silently.  
  
Hermione didn't know what to do. She glanced one more time to the table where everyone was far too busy drilling Harry for details to notice that the youngest Weasley had disappeared from the room. Deciding that she couldn't just very well leave Ginny alone, she shut the pantry door and hurried up the stairs after the younger girl.  
  
When she reached the third floor, Hermione knocked gently on the door. "Gin?" she called softly. "It's me."  
  
A muffled, "Come in," was the answer, and Hermione slowly opened the door and stepped into the small bedroom that she always shared with Ginny whenever she was visiting the Burrow.  
  
Ginny was sitting silently on the bed, simply studying the stitching on the quilt in front of her.  
  
Hermione was nervous, not quite sure how to deal with anything and feeling rather awkward. So, she said the only thing that came to mind.  
  
"Ginny..."  
  
The redhead looked up with distant eyes. "He has a girlfriend?"  
  
Hermione sighed softly and tried again. "Ginny..."  
  
"Just like that? Two weeks and he has a girlfriend?" Ginny didn't wait for an answer before asking her next question. "Is she pretty?"  
  
Hermione frowned and shifted nervously from one foot to the other. "Ginny..." She wanted to say something else, but nothing was coming to mind.  
  
"Just answer me, please," Ginny said quietly. "Is she pretty?"  
  
Sighing again, Hermione answered the question. "Yes."  
  
Ginny looked away and nodded slightly, muttering, "I figured she would be." Hermione simply stared at her for a moment before another question was posed. "Does he really like her?"  
  
Nodding hesitantly, Hermione answered truthfully. "Yeah..."  
  
Ginny looked deeply hurt as her eyes darted back to the bedspread. In a very timid voice, she spoke again. "I don't want to like him this much, you know? I don't really want to like him at all..."  
  
Hermione wanted to comfort her, but this girl stuff was never her forte. However, it seemed like Ginny just wanted someone to listen, so Hermione sat down across from her and waited.  
  
"I mean, he's Ron's best friend. That in itself should make it too weird." She bit her lip slightly. "He should just be like... Lee Jordan or something. Like another brother." She rolled her eyes slightly. "I mean, it's not like my parents haven't tried to adopt him on more than one occasion..."  
  
Hermione nodded silently.  
  
"But it's not like that. Because he's Harry." She looked up and slowly added, "Harry Potter." She shook her head dismissively and said, "And I know you don't understand because you didn't grow up hearing about it. But for as long as I can remember, I've been hearing about him and hearing how he was so great that he could defeat the Darkest Wizard of all time when he was just a baby. A baby..."  
  
Hermione was, of course, quite familiar with the story of Harry Potter, but Ginny was right. She hadn't grown up hearing it, so maybe it was a bit different.  
  
A small, almost reminiscent smile crossed the younger girl's lips as she continued. "And when Ron first went to school, I couldn't believe that he actually knew him. Not just knew him, but was friends with him. Best friends." She closed her eyes briefly. "Do you know I used to wait by the window every single afternoon just hoping and praying that Ron would send me a letter and tell me some new crazy adventure that he'd be on with Harry?" She laughed breezily. "Can you even imagine what it must have been like for me to read about all the things you guys did in your first year? It was unbelievable. And it was Harry Potter."  
  
Hermione tried to imagine just what it would be like to read about everything that had happened on paper. A smile crossed her lips without her knowledge as she imagined the way Ron must have exaggerated the things that had happened.  
  
"But then when I met him, I couldn't believe it." Ginny looked faraway now. "He really was just as nice and brave and perfect as I'd always imagined that he would be. And he was just so nice. And humble." She shrugged off-handedly. "He was just perfect."  
  
The words floated unanswered for a minute before a dark look crossed Ginny's face and she went back to studying the quilt. "And then I screwed everything up in my first year and almost got him killed."  
  
Remembering Ron's story of Ginny's nightmares, Hermione cringed slightly. "Ginny," she said soothingly. "You didn't almost get him killed."  
  
"Yes, I did, Hermione." Ginny looked up seriously. "You don't have to sugarcoat it because I know what happened. I was there, remember? I almost got him killed. I almost got Ron killed. I almost got you killed. And Colin And Justin. And Penelope. And..."  
  
"It wasn't your fault," Hermione interrupted. "So, don't even think that it was."  
  
Ginny shrugged unenthusiastically. "It doesn't matter whose fault it was. It happened. And it ruined my whole life."  
  
Hermione flinched. She definitely hadn't expected to hear that.  
  
"The reason I got so involved in that diary was because I was so obsessed with Harry, and I knew that he didn't like me back. I was so depressed by the whole thing that I emerged myself into something that seemed to care." She looked away. "And everything backfired. Harry ended up having to play hero yet again, and I ended up looking like nothing more than his best friend's kid sister who was too stupid to follow advice that her father had given her for eleven years." She frowned. "And he still thinks like that."  
  
"Harry does not think of you like that," Hermione said adamantly. "He doesn't, okay? He does care about you, and he really does consider you a very close friend."  
  
Ginny actually rolled her eyes. "He considers me his little sister because he's too damn close to this family and doesn't know how else to think."  
  
Hermione had no idea what to say.  
  
However, Ginny just shook her head dismissively and shrugged her shoulders. "But what does it matter anyway? He's got a girlfriend. It's not like I ever had a chance anyway."  
  
The bitterness was not missed from her voice as she got to her feet and walked silently from the room with a very distant look still covering her face. Hermione sighed and put her head into her hands.  
  
She didn't have a clue as to how to make Ginny feel better.  
  
*********************  
  
Ron huffed with disgust as he climbed the stairs of the house to retreat to his room. He was already sick of being there, and it hadn't even been an hour. After he'd vaguely made a comment about Ginny running off because she must have heard Harry had a girlfriend and needed to cry, his mother had gotten quite testy with him and proceeded to send him a live-action howler.  
  
He was in the process of stomping up the stairs when he was suddenly met with the sound of his name being called on the third landing.  
  
"Oi, Ron!"  
  
He turned his head immediately in the direction of the familiar voice. George was coming up the stairs behind him, and he smirked as he reached the landing and caught his younger brother by the sleeve. Without another word, he pulled him toward the closed door to the room that he shared with Fred.  
  
"What are you doing?" Ron asked, yanking himself out of his brother's grasp.  
  
George rolled his eyes and opened the door, shoving Ron into it and following him in. After shutting the door behind him, George grinned. "So, Mum's being a bitch, huh?"  
  
Ron made a face. "Uh, yeah. What is her problem anyway?"  
  
George shrugged. "She's pregnant."  
  
"Has she been like that the whole holiday?"  
  
The older of the two nodded. "Yep, but it's weird. She'll probably be rushing up here in a few minutes asking if you want her to make you a whole batch of treacle tarts. Mood swings, you know."  
  
Ron shrugged. "I guess. Sure, whatever."  
  
George grinned. "You're actually very lucky you haven't been here. It's quite tiring trying to keep up with her."  
  
Sighing, Ron looked at his older brother. "What do you want?" he asked unenthusiastically.  
  
George looked quite offended. "Well, that's a pleasant conversation starter."  
  
Rolling his eyes, Ron said, "Can I leave now?"  
  
"And just where are you rushing off to?" George smirked evilly. "Hermione's off somewhere with Ginny. You might as well spend some time with me."  
  
"Sod off."  
  
"Is that any way to talk to your older brother?" George asked in mock- offense. "Here I am, trying to have a friendly little brotherly chat, and you tell me to sod off. Unacceptable."  
  
"Will you just tell me what you want, so I can go?" Ron asked, completely ignoring the previous statement.  
  
Sighing, George sat down on his bed and motioned for Ron to do the same on Fred's. "It's time we had a talk."  
  
Ron looked at the place where George was motioning and then back at George. Without so much as flinching, he said, "I'm leaving."  
  
"Sit." George stood back up and forcefully shoved Ron into a sitting position before settling himself back onto his own bed. "Now, then. How have your hols been?"  
  
Ron glared at the boy across from him. "Better than yours. Happy? Can I go?"  
  
Snickering, George shook his head. "What is the rush, Ron? I just want to spend some quality time with my favorite little brother. Is that such a crime?"  
  
"I'm your only little brother," Ron pointed out without missing a beat.  
  
Tilting his head from side to side, the older shrugged his shoulders. "Admitted. But still, why don't you want to talk to me?"  
  
"Because I don't want to listen to you," Ron said briskly. "Because I know that look, and I know what this is about, and I know what you're going to say, and I don't want to hear it."  
  
"Well, if that wasn't the run on sentence of the century... Hermione would have a fit."  
  
"She'd get over it," Ron said quickly. "Now, just tell me whatever it is you want to tell me, will you?"  
  
"You just said you didn't want to hear it."  
  
"Fine." Ron made a move to stand up, but George was too quick. He'd stood up at the same time and shoved Ron once again into a sitting position.  
  
"Lucky for you," George said with a smile, "I never follow your wishes."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes and crossed his arms stubbornly.  
  
"Now. Speaking of Hermione..." George chuckled to himself. "I am such a good transition maker. Speaking of Hermione..."  
  
"Just shut the hell up, okay?" Ron was looking quite serious.  
  
George put on a very shocked look. "Ronald Phillip Weasley, you'd do to watch your mouth!" he scolded mockingly.  
  
"Fuck you."  
  
Faking a gasp, George looked at him incredulously. "Do you kiss my mother with that mouth?"  
  
Ron glared stubbornly as George smirked cruelly.  
  
"Do you kiss anyone else with that mouth?"  
  
Ron groaned and put his head in his hands. Sitting back up, he continued the glare. "I'm leaving."  
  
His brother laughed. "Answer the question."  
  
"What is it to you anyway?" Ron suddenly challenged. "Why do you care so much?"  
  
"Because you are my little brother, and I am looking out for you." He looked quite self-fulfilled. "I am saving you, Ron."  
  
"Saving me from what?" Ron rolled his eyes. "Stop talking shit and just tell me what you're on about."  
  
George smirked. "Well, look at it this way, young one. You are one of eight Fifth Year Gryffindors, right? Let's go down the list, shall we?" Ron rolled his eyes, but George paid him no attention. "I personally witnessed Dean Thomas kissing Padma Patil outside of the Ravenclaw portrait hole two days before the end of term."  
  
"Why were you outside the Ravenclaw portrait hole?" Ron questioned pointedly.  
  
George laughed. "Oh, that is none of your concern. We are talking about you. Now, allow me to continue. Padma's dear twin sister Parvati has been seen being more than a bit friendly with at least two Ravenclaws, a Hufflepuff, and even a Slytherin within the last year." He cleared his throat. "And Parvati, of course, leads us straight to her blonde headed clone, Lavender Brown. Now, Lavender, as I'm sure you will know, has been quite involved with one of your very own roommates. Seamus Finnigan. And Seamus, of course, has been quite involved with a very long list of young ladies too long to name. So, what's that? Four down, four to go, right? Well, next on our list is your very own best friend, none other than Mr. Harry Potter himself." Ron looked away, already quite annoyed by this 'lesson.' "Harry has done what he should have done a long time ago and found himself a girl. Trust me, there's nothing to take away painful thoughts like a pretty girl. And from what I've been told, this Gia is quite the looker. And, I know you know where this is going," he winked at his younger brother, "Gia just happens to be another one your best friends' old classmates. Yes, Ron, that's right. Hermione. Now, there was a surprise- a surprise but a rather amusing one at least. Hermione's even gone and got herself a boyfriend- let us not forget the infamous Viktor Krum."  
  
Ron scowled and immediately spoke up to that. "Krum was never her boyfriend."  
  
"Oh, no?" George looked far too amused by the situation. "Well, there was certainly something going on from what I could see..." He got up and walked over to a trunk across the room. "What month was that?" he muttered as he rummaged through the trunk. "Aha!" He stood back up with a magazine in his hand. Flipping through it, he thrust it at once at his younger brother. "Don't tell me that you don't see it, too."  
  
It was the August issue of Quidditch Center- the one with the article on Krum signing the extended contract. The picture of the Bulgarian Seeker and Hermione looking quite cozy with each other stared back at Ron.  
  
Fighting the urge to crumple up the book and throw it at his brother, Ron opted to glare instead and repeat his earlier statement. "He was never her boyfriend."  
  
George rolled his eyes. "Boyfriend or not- they certainly look like they got on quite well to me. I'm sure a simple title didn't stop her from doing things with him that she wouldn't do with just random guys. You know... like kissing him."  
  
Ron flung the magazine onto the bed beside him in a great huff.  
  
"See, Ron?" George went on without missing a beat. "Hermione has joined the ranks of five of your other classmates. Making the score now six to two. And sadly, you are on the team of two with none other than Neville Longbottom. And we both know that the closest Neville's ever gotten to a girl was with Ginny." He held up a hand, "Don't even go there." Shaking himself of the image, he continued. "But if you don't hurry up, poor Neville might just beat you to the punch. Especially since Harry's now off the market, and our poor little sister is probably quite heart-broken." He shuddered but continued anyway. "You don't want that to happen, do you? You don't want to be on the losing side when the score gets all the way to seven to one, now do you?"  
  
Ron wanted very much to throw something at the redhead across from him. He knew that if he did this, though, that his mother would hear the crash and come upstairs to give him the blessing out of his life. She was just in the mood. Instead, he opted to sent a contemptuous look in the direction of his brother and make a very simple statement. "You don't know anything about anything, George."  
  
"Oh, I don't, do I?" George narrowed his own eyes to the challenge. "I suppose you think I wasn't there to witness the way you looked when Hermione showed up at the Yule Ball last year. I guess you think I wasn't there when she gave Harry a kiss on the cheek at King's Cross last year and you looked like you wanted to pummel the poor bloke. I guess you think I wasn't around when Pig accidentally dropped one of Hermione's letters into sink and you nearly broke your neck getting to it before anyone else could snatch it up this summer. I guess you think I didn't see the way you were looking at her while you were dancing with her on Halloween." He shook his head. "Ron, I have eyes. And trust me. I do know."  
  
Ron turned a rather bright shade of pink and looked away. In a quieter voice, he made another request. "Will you please just leave me alone about it?"  
  
"No, I won't," George answered automatically. "Why don't you just do something about it already?"  
  
Ron looked up and suddenly started speaking rather quickly. "Just shut up! You don't understand, okay? It was like one day she was an annoying know- it-all that I couldn't stand. Then one day she was my new best friend. Then one day she was just Hermione. And then the next she was a girl. And then she started showing up in my dreams. And then she had to go and get all pretty. And then one day I just started wondering what it would be like to kiss her. And I haven't been able to get the bloody thought out of my mind since!"  
  
He stopped abruptly and looked away, his face redder than it had ever been in his entire life. The news was so quickly given that George had to take a moment to process it all.  
  
"So, you admit it."  
  
Ron closed his eyes and groaned. "Fine!" he said, turning back to his older brother sharply. "I admit it, okay? Fine. Whatever. I'm sick of trying to deny it!"  
  
George was grinning far too broadly. "Oh, this is too good to be true..."  
  
Ron immediately knew that he had done the wrong thing by confessing his secret to George, but it had slipped before he'd even had time to think. And honestly, it did feel a bit nice to finally have it out in the open with someone.  
  
Even if it was one-half of his biggest nightmare.  
  
Still a brighter red than his hair, he looked wordlessly at the carpet in front of him.  
  
George, however, had plenty to say on the subject. "Well, let's start the beginning," he said coaxingly. "When did you first realize that the lovely Miss Granger was simply irresistible?"  
  
Ron wanted to be swallowed up by a hole in the earth, but it was far too late for that now. Shrugging, he reluctantly answered the question. "I don't know. It just sort of happened."  
  
"But you really like her?"  
  
"You have no bloody idea," Ron said cryptically as he dropped back onto the bed and lay looking at the ceiling. "No idea..."  
  
George chuckled to himself. "So, tell me all about it, little brother."  
  
Ron scowled slightly at the attempt at babying but lifted his shoulders. "She's all I think about every day, all day." He sighed and closed his eyes briefly. "Like if I'm not with her, all I do is think about an excuse to go and find her. And if I am with her, all I do is think of an excuse to get her attention. And it's always something stupid, too."  
  
Not even bothering to hide his amused smirk, the older of the two prodded the younger on. "And? How do you go about doing this?"  
  
Ron groaned, not quite sure why he was spilling everything to one of the twins- of all people he could have chosen... However, he had already started, so he might as well finish. Placing his hands over his eyes, he continued to lie on his back and speak. "Sometimes I actually study on purpose. Just so I can go to the library and sit at one of those little tables with her. You know, because there's not much room, and our knees almost always end up bumping."  
  
This drew a load of laughter from George, and Ron cringed imagining the teasing that he was going to get when all was spilled to Fred. Oh, why couldn't he just make himself shut up?  
  
"So, you actually study- on purpose- just so you can make sure to bump knees with Hermione?" George managed this recap through broken snickers. "Why Hermione? What's so special about her anyway?"  
  
Ron sat up slowly and pondered the question. Knowing that he should just keep his mouth shut and quit while he wasn't yet miles behind didn't help him at all, and he actually started to spill even more useful blackmail material. And willingly at that.  
  
"She's just..." His eyes glazed over slightly as he thought of the word to describe his female best friend. "She's just perfect." A dazed smile covered his lips as he dreamily started listing off other characteristics that made her so much more than just special. "And she's brilliant. I know I complain sometimes that she spends too much time studying, but I'm not being serious. Her mind is amazing- I love it. I just get upset because she never talks to anyone or does anything else if she has a book in front of her face. So, I just tease her about it." He thought for another minute before continuing. "And she's beautiful. I mean, so beautiful. It's like... Not beautiful as in seeing the Cannons win the Cup, but more like seeing a sunset over a clear ocean." Ron's head jerked up immediately upon his words, and his face almost went purple. "Oh, my God... Did I just say that out loud?"  
  
George's loud guffawing was all the answer he needed. He dropped his face into his hands and prayed silently for lightning to just strike him dead upon contact. How could he be so bloody stupid?  
  
It was George, for crying out loud!  
  
George made a move to get up, but Ron's head immediately shot back up and he leapt to his feet to head his older brother off. "Where are you going?!" he asked, panicked.  
  
George was still trying to get his snickering under control as he answered the question. "To tell Hermione."  
  
"No!" Ron leapt in front of the door, never remembering feeling so anxious or scared in his entire life- not even during the whole Acromantula thing.  
  
George stopped and smirked. "I am doing this for your own good, Ron," he said seriously. "If she hears what you just said, you'll get a hell of a lot more than a simple kiss. Trust me." He smirk turned even more mischievous. "Of course, that's another talk we'll have to have."  
  
Ron comprehended what had just been said by his older brother after a second, but he didn't even have time to swear at him for being so crude. Instead, he did the only thing that made a bit of sense.  
  
He actually dropped to his knees in front of the door and literally begged George. "Please! Please don't tell her!" He didn't even bother trying to keep his voice calm. Desperate times called for desperate measures, and if there was ever a case of either, this was it. "Please, George! Oh, my God, I'll do anything! Just don't tell her! Please!"  
  
The older of the two surveyed the scene before him and shook his head in silent disbelief. "This is the absolute saddest thing I have ever seen in my life..." Then he grinned wickedly and added, "Where's a camera when you need one?"  
  
Ron folded his hands in the begging position and spoke earnestly up to his older brother. "George, please... I swear I will do whatever you want. Anything. I'll do anything, I swear! Just please, please don't tell Hermione what I said..."  
  
"What is the big bloody deal?" George asked with a confused shake of his head. "You want to kiss her, right?"  
  
Ron sighed softly. "I think more than I've ever wanted anything in my whole life..."  
  
His brother rolled his eyes. "Well, if she heard even half of what you just said, she'd be all over you!"  
  
Ron stopped pleading for a moment and looked up at his older brother. "Well, I'll tell her, okay?" He took a deep, steadying breath. "I swear I will. But just please- don't you do it, alright? Just let me do it."  
  
George pursed his lips in what was obvious disappointment. "Get up, Ron," he said ruefully. "You've no idea how stupid you look."  
  
Ron scowled slightly and got to his feet, raising himself up to his full height, which was several inches taller than George. He was still, somehow, much smaller.  
  
George looked sternly up at his little brother and seriously said, "Fine. But you have until we get back to school. If she doesn't know by the time we get back on the train, she will find out." He smirked as he finished with, "Because everyone in the school will know."  
  
Ron opened his mouth in protest. "Would you honestly do that to me? I'm your brother!"  
  
George shrugged. "If it was for the case of the betterment of the good, then yes, I would."  
  
Ron just raised his eyebrows, indicating that he didn't understand a single word that had just been said.  
  
Rolling his eyes, George put it into common English. "If it got people to laugh, I would say anything. Brother or no."  
  
And with that, he reached up and roughly ruffled Ron's hair before smirking self-righteously and leaving his little brother in the room. Ron stared after him, completely shocked that his own blood would betray him like that. Not only betray him- but enjoy it as well.  
  
Scowling, Ron then did something he'd wanted to do for quite some time now. He walked over to Fred's bed and picked up the August issue of Quidditch Center. Glancing around to make sure no one was behind him, he ripped out the page that had the picture and article on it. He then very carefully tore down the center of it, cutting the picture in half. Without another thought, he set down the magazine and one half of the picture before taking the other half and shredding it into a thousand tiny pieces.  
  
Smirking, he felt quite triumphant. "His nose certainly looks a lot smaller broken into tiny bits like that," he said to himself as he tipped the remnants of the picture into the waste basket.  
  
Then, with another glance around, he quickly reached for the other half of the picture, folded it, and tucked it securely into his pocket.  
  
With the best smile he could muster while still remembering that George had the absolute worst sort of blackmail on him, he made his way downstairs for lunch.  
  
************************************  
  
Ah... Well, you all know what this weekend means, right? Yes, of course, I'm talking about the opening of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets. As I'm very excited to see the film, I'm in an exceptionally good mood. Coincidentally, the next chapter will hopefully put the rest of you into moods just as good... And that's all I'm saying.  
  
Hope you'll leave feedback!!!! 


	42. The Perfect Gift

A/N: Thanks to the many people who reviewed the last chapter! I hope this one is just as enjoyed.  
  
Disclaimer: None of them belong to me!  
  
********************************  
  
Much later that evening, Hermione found herself sitting cross-legged on her bedroom floor across from Ron, a pair of wrapped gifts separating them. After they'd all returned from the Burrow, Harry had left for Gia's; he'd said that he wouldn't be too long, but both of his best friends knew well enough that "not too long" for Harry and Gia often meant that the most famous boy wizard of their time was sneaking back into his best friend's house at two and three in the morning. But neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to be complaining about the fact that the third member of their trio had something to occupy his time.  
  
Christmas at the Burrow had been fun. Mrs. Weasley's Christmas lunch had left them stuffed sick with all sorts of wonderful food. Bill and Charlie had both shown up with their girlfriends, and the table was fuller than ever. Of course, there was still one member of the family missing, but everyone made very sure not to mention Percy's absence in front of Mrs. Weasley, who was bustling over her children and their guests more than ever.  
  
Ron had spent most of the night seemingly avoiding the twins, leaving the area whenever one of them got close enough for speaking to him. Hermione had found this odd, and she certainly hadn't missed the snickers they seemed to have whenever they got near her. She hadn't had too much time to ponder this, though, as most of her attention was focused on Ginny. The only Weasley girl had done a very good job of staying incredibly quiet through most of the meal, and she spent most of the afternoon and evening sitting in the corner of the sitting room painting and repainting her nails with a new set of nail varnish she'd gotten for Christmas. And when Bill and Charlie started hounding Harry for information on Gia after being tipped off by the twins, Ginny had gone even paler than normal and had suddenly found the scene outside the window quite interesting. As they were leaving, Hermione had hugged the other girl and even offered her an invitation to spend some time at her house over the last week and a half of holiday. Ginny had simply glanced once at Harry and shaken her head silently before backing against the wall and watching wordlessly as everyone else said their goodbyes.  
  
Hermione truly felt sorry for her, but there was nothing that she could think of that she could do to make her feel any better.  
  
And, though it may have been selfish, she had enough of her own tangled love life problems to deal with as it was. The number one being the person sitting across from her, lazily playing with the bow on the package she'd wrapped earlier. Her own gift didn't have any bows, and, in fact, it was more rolled in paper than wrapped, but she didn't mind.  
  
It was chilly in the house, so they were both dressed in pajamas with jumpers on for extra warmth. Hermione sat with her knees pulled up to her chest with a mug of hot chocolate resting in her hands. She grinned as she looked up and caught Ron staring at her.  
  
"Okay, you go first," she said, prodding the neatly wrapped package with the toe of her socked foot.  
  
Ron set his cocoa aside and pulled the package to him. By the amused look on his face, she could tell that he already knew it was a book. She'd certainly given him enough of them since she'd known him for him to be able to pick one out while it was wrapped in a box. However, as he pulled the top off of the box, she could instantly tell that he appreciated this book much more than the time she'd given him an updated copy of 'Hogwarts, A History.'  
  
"Wow!" he said enthusiastically as he lifted the book from the box and admired it openly. It was a hardback, newly printed edition of 'Flying With the Cannons,' and it literally sparkled as he held it up and looked at the cover. "Thanks, Hermione!"  
  
She was grinning so widely she thought her cheeks would split. "Open it!"  
  
He looked at her curiously for a moment but opened the book to the front page nonetheless. His mouth immediately fell open in shock as he stared at seven names all scribbled in a sparkling golden ink. Each member of the Cannons had hand-signed the edition on the front cover. Ron's eyes didn't leave the page for what seemed like several minutes, until finally he managed to lift his gaze back to the girl who had given him the gift.  
  
It was obvious that there were no words; he still seemed quite in shock. All he could manage was another breathless, "Wow..."  
  
"I've been dying to give it to you!" she exclaimed, instantly setting into the explanation of how she'd acquired it. "I was going to save it till your birthday, but I couldn't wait any longer- it's been driving me crazy!"  
  
"Where did you get it?" he asked, still quite stunned.  
  
"I got it this summer in that Quidditch shop I told you about, remember?" He nodded vaguely, no sign of bitterness crossing his face. "And I was looking and looking and looking for something. I'd already found the Snitch, and I knew that I was getting that for Harry. I was just about to give up because I didn't really see anything else, but the man working asked me if I was a fan of the Cannons, and I said no not really but that my best friend was like their biggest fan ever, so he showed me this book. He said that there were only ten copies of it printed in this edition and specially signed, and I almost jumped for joy! And then it's been driving me crazy not being able to give it to you all these months, and I knew I couldn't wait until March!" She said all of this extremely quickly and with the most hyper tone imaginable.  
  
Ron finally gave up on the stunned silent act and grinned at her for a second before reaching across the packages and taking the mug of cocoa away from her. He set it aside quickly and immediately grabbed her hands in his own, jerking her to her feet as he, too, jumped up. He then wrapped her in an extremely tight embrace and hugged her happily.  
  
"Thank you!" he said, pulling back a bit and smiling down at her. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. It's the best present I've ever gotten!"  
  
His words were so genuine that she believed him completely, and it warmed her to the tips of her still quite chilled socked feet. "I'm so glad you like it," she said honestly, the smile never leaving her face.  
  
Ron looked at her incredulously for a moment before shaking his head and saying, "Like it? Hermione, it's the Cannons!"  
  
She giggled. "I know. And maybe sometime in the next century, they'll actually win a match!" She was teasing him, as so many others did, about the fact that he was such a faithful devotee to a team that hadn't won too much of anything since probably the 1800s. "We'll cross our fingers and hope for the best," she grinned as she quoted the Cannons' motto.  
  
"Hey!" Ron said, trying but not succeeding to look offended. "Shut up!" He shoved her playfully, and she continued to giggle. "It'll happen, okay?"  
  
She nodded, her face still set in the grin. "I believe you..."  
  
Ron just rolled his eyes and sent her the very same look she was so famous for. The one that just screamed, 'I'm right. You're wrong. I'm not going to entertain this conversation any longer.' She put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. "Don't give me that look," she said sternly. "I own that look."  
  
Ron laughed and rolled his eyes again before bending down and picking up the other wrapped parcel. He held it out to her and proudly said, "Here. I wrapped it myself." It was clear that he was trying to be funny, and she simply shook her head as she took it from him.  
  
"I never would have guessed..." There was quite a bit of tape rolled around the paper, and it took a good minute to actually get to the box. When she'd finally discarded all of the wrinkled wrapping, she looked at him briefly before pulling the lid from the box. He actually looked quite anxious.  
  
Hermione glanced back to the gift and lifted the lid, smiling as she reached into the box with her free hand and pulled out what appeared to be a gray leather bound journal. She smiled at him as he launched into his own explanation.  
  
"Well," he swallowed, as if he were suddenly very nervous, "I've never seen you write in one before. And I just figured that maybe you needed to, you know? I mean, because there should at least be some record of how brilliant your mind is." He gave her a nervous little smile, and she bit down on her lower lip. "And you don't have to worry about anyone reading it, either. Because it's enchanted, see? Whenever anyone else looks at it, all they'll see is blank pages. But you set this spell on it, so it recognizes you, and it will be just like a normal diary for you. So, you know, no one can read it."  
  
He looked up at her, nervously awaiting her reaction. In truth, she'd never received such a thoughtful gift, and she could hardly believe that Ron had been the one to think about it enough to get it for her. He'd gotten her the bracelet for her birthday, which she loved very much, but this had actually required thought and a reason behind it. And he'd given her both. Smiling back at him shyly, she said a quiet, "Thank you."  
  
He sent her the same sort of nervous smile, and she slowly reached for his hand and clasped it in her own free palm. With another genuinely thankful smile, she said, "I love it."  
  
He glanced down at their hands and then looked back at her. It was suddenly very awkward, as if they were both in some Muggle film at the end of a first date and standing on the front porch of her house. In those films, the awkward silence always screamed the fact that neither of them knew what to do or say or whether the other even wanted anything said or done.  
  
But this wasn't a Muggle film.  
  
For one, in the Muggle films, the girl always looked stunning, with a perfect outfit and the breezy wind blowing her hair just enough to make her look incredibly enticing. Hermione was well-aware of the fact that she was dressed in her pajamas and that her hair was pulled into a messy ponytail with several thick chunks falling down to frame her face. She was also aware of the fact that the dimly lit porch that was always so prominent in these films was being substituted by her brightly lit bedroom.  
  
In fact, there was really nothing at all to compare this with a film fantasy except for the deafening awkwardness that surrounded them both the second she'd taken his hand carefully into her own.  
  
It was silly, really, to be so nervous and awkward with Ron. He'd known her for so long that they should be far past any sort of awkward feelings, but there they were. They'd been through life and death and everything in between together; they'd literally grown up together, grown up knowing each other inside and out.  
  
And, yet, they still couldn't speak to each other.  
  
Things had changed. They'd changed since they were squabbling eleven year olds. They'd changed since last year when they'd argued over Viktor Krum. They'd changed since this summer when even touching each other had seemed far too impossible to even think about. And things had changed over the past two weeks. Those two weeks of holiday had made Hermione realize something that had been right there for her to realize for five long years.  
  
Ron was her best friend.  
  
Of course she'd always thought of him like that, but it had always been in the context of "Ron and Harry." Never just Ron by himself. But it was true- she held Ron's friendship closer even than she held Harry's. It wasn't that she didn't love or trust Harry because she did, very much so. It was just that she had spent so much more time with Ron over the years that she'd had no choice. Until this year, she'd been with Ron practically every waking hour of the day, as Harry often had Quidditch practices. And now that Ron was sharing those practices, Hermione hadn't let herself realize how much she missed the alone time with the redheaded prat who drove her insane.  
  
Yes, he was insufferable ninety percent of the time. Yes, he was immature and annoying. And yes, he was her favorite verbal sparring partner.  
  
But he was so much more.  
  
He was the one whose first words had been, "Hermione! Are you okay?" after she'd finally gotten him to wake up on the floor of the giant chess board in their first year. He was the one who had burped up slugs trying to defend her the first time she'd ever been called a Mudblood. He was the one who had actually taken notes (and fairly good ones at that) for her during the three weeks she'd spent in the hospital wing after messing up a Polyjuice Potion. Of course, he'd snuck into the infirmary after hours each night to give them to her while Harry was at Quidditch practice because if anyone found at that he was actually making an effort at school, his reputation would have been damaged beyond repair. He was the one who had braved his biggest fear in order to get information to help after she'd been Petrified in their second year. Third Year was definitely their worst; they'd definitely had more downs than ups that year, but they'd had enough. She wouldn't forget the day they'd spent together in Diagon Alley before the start of the school year when they'd gone shopping for a new wand to replace his old broken one. She still remembered him using the last of his pocket money to buy them ice-cream at Fortescue's and then trading her his chocolate-peppermint cone when she'd realized that she didn't have too much of a taste for the lemon-meringue one she'd ordered. She remembered the time that same year when he'd stood up for her when Snape had called her an insufferable know-it-all even though Ron himself took pride in calling her that exact quote at least once a day. And, of course, she remembered everything about Fourth Year with exceptional clarity. The way they'd fought about Viktor, the way she'd felt an unfounded dislike for Fleur Delacour, the way he'd actually broken down and worn the S.P.E.W. badge she'd made for a whole afternoon. And, of course, the way he'd stared at her the night of the Yule Ball. It had infuriated her at the time, but she hadn't missed the strange sort of tingling that his intense gaze brought upon her. She remembered the way he'd held her hand protectively when they didn't know where Harry had been taken to after the Third Task. And she remembered the way he'd hugged her awkwardly and told her that if she needed anything to write him before he'd disappeared through the barrier with his parents at the end of Fourth Year.  
  
And one thing reigned true and consistent in all of those memories. While he might have enjoyed fighting publicly with her, he was always there to stand up for her. And in private, he was completely different.  
  
That was what she missed more than anything- the private time that they'd always had together. This year hadn't held that same opportunity, but the past two weeks had given them what they'd both been secretly missing. Harry hadn't been around, and Ron and Hermione had, in a sense, rediscovered each other.  
  
And they'd discovered things they'd never known before.  
  
It was frightening to think that she could feel like this, but Hermione was far past denying herself of the truth. She liked Ron in a way much differently from the way she liked Harry or any of her other friends. And maybe she always had- maybe she'd always known deep down that opposites really did attract. Or maybe it was just all new. She didn't know, and she honestly didn't care. What had mattered in the past didn't matter anymore because everything before was over and done with.  
  
All she was concerned with was the here and now.  
  
"Well."  
  
Ron's single word statement drew her quickly out of the deep reverie she wasn't even aware she'd fallen into. She could feel his hand still holding hers, and she glanced down as if to clarify the feeling. A small shiver ran through her as she saw that their hands were still quite entwined with each other.  
  
It was a wonderful little chill.  
  
Looking back up, she met his eyes carefully, not missing the way he was staring at her. It was an intense gaze, but it wasn't the same look he'd stared her down with at the Yule Ball the year before. That look had been angry and possessive. This one was marked with nervousness and even a tad of shyness.  
  
He knew. She knew he knew. He knew the way she felt, and Hermione was close to positive that this was due mostly to the fact that he felt the same way.  
  
'Just say it,' she urged him silently. What the "it" was, Hermione wasn't sure. She wasn't sure what she wanted him to say, but she wanted him to say something. Or maybe it was she who needed to say it.  
  
"Well."  
  
Okay, so it wasn't her usual display of vocabulary. But she couldn't help it; it was the only thing she could bring herself to say.  
  
She hoped it was enough.  
  
There was another horrible drowning silence, and Hermione was sure that it was just going to swallow them both up. She'd never been so incredibly nervous in her entire life- none of the near death experiences of her years at Hogwarts could even compare to the way she was feeling as she stood in her bedroom with her hand tucked safely into Ron's and her cheeks flushing rapidly.  
  
And it was all so stupid.  
  
They were supposed to be best friends. They weren't supposed to be forced to deal with all of this dratted awkwardness; they weren't supposed to be dealing with all this boy/girl stuff between them at all. But they were. And they had been for quite some time.  
  
And, in Hermione's opinion, it was high time to do something about it.  
  
Of course, she certainly wasn't going to be the one to do anything. And she somehow knew that Ron wouldn't, either- no matter how much they both wanted it. It was too hard, and she couldn't really blame him.  
  
Looking away for a moment, Ron finally managed to speak again. "Well, I guess I should go to bed."  
  
She swallowed and nodded slightly, not wanting him to go anywhere but not having enough courage to ask him to stay. He looked at her as if he almost hoped that she would say something to convince him not to leave, but when she didn't, he simply nodded slowly.  
  
Hermione wanted to groan right out, but she didn't. She couldn't. All she could do was resolve to the fact that to have faced death so many times that she and Ron were both still nothing but a couple of ruddy cowards.  
  
Oh, well.  
  
With a small sigh that she hadn't meant to release, she looked up at him one more time. "Well, goodnight, then."  
  
Ron didn't say it back right away. He was too busy staring at her- staring at her in a way that made her feel deliciously excited and... adored. He was looking at her as if he adored her. She would have given every book in the Hogwarts library to make that a true statement.  
  
Suddenly, she was hit with a now or never sort of feeling. She had to tell him something- anything- so that he would know what she was going through. She had to let him know that if he was going through the same thing then they could handle it. Together.  
  
Because it might have been scary, but it was inevitably right. She was sure of it.  
  
Taking a shallow breath, she gathered up every ounce of courage that she could and said, "Ron, I..."  
  
She didn't get any further.  
  
Because he had kissed her.  
  
It took a second for Hermione to register that he was, in fact, kissing her and that she was, in fact, doing nothing about it. He wasn't taking any liberties with her; their lips were merely touching in a terribly sweet sort of way, and Hermione was positive that she was going to die from it. Without meaning to, she felt her eyes close slowly as they stood in the middle of her bedroom with their lips barely brushing against each others.  
  
It was the most wonderful thing she'd ever felt in her entire life.  
  
She shivered slightly as she felt the pad of his thumb run gently over the knuckles of the hand he was still holding. And without even knowing what she was doing, she slowly let the diary drop to the floor and reached for his free hand with her own.  
  
Nothing- nothing- had ever felt like this.  
  
Moments later, they gently pulled away from each other. She could feel Ron slowly straightening back up in front of her closed eyes, and she realized that she needed to lean back against the canopy post of her bed or she might fall out right there in her room from the sheer dizzy feeling taking over body in the most rapid of paces.  
  
She allowed her eyes to stay closed for several more seconds, reveling in the way she could still feel his soft lips pressed so gently against her own. Her brain wasn't even functioning properly, and she found that thinking about anything else was quite impossible. And when she finally managed to force her eyes to flutter open, she looked shyly up at Ron only to find that his own eyes were still closed, too.  
  
As if sensing her gaze, he blinked twice and then opened his eyes. Hermione had never seen them look so blue before; they were darker than she ever remembered them being, and she somehow managed to wonder if her own eyes had been given the same darkening effect. Not saying a word, the two of them simply stared at each other, as if they were both trying to make sense of what had just happened.  
  
A long, long moment of silence followed, but the timid eye-contact between the two of them was never once broken.  
  
All at once, everything seemed to click into place.  
  
They had just kissed each other. She, Hermione, had just kissed him, Ron.  
  
Oh, wow.  
  
Hermione was suddenly aware of the fact that she hadn't meant for that to happen. She only wanted to tell him how she felt; she hadn't expected him to kiss her. It all seemed unreal. What had they done? What would happen now? What did this change? It was too much.  
  
Ron, too, looked as if he was trying to figure out what in the world had possessed him to do that. His face was redder than she had ever seen it, and he looked as if he would have been happier at that moment if the earth had opened up and swallowed him.  
  
Quietly, he said her name. "Hermione..."  
  
Hermione unconsciously let go of his hand and took a step backwards, bumping into the post behind her. She let one hand move to her mouth where she gently pressed her fingertips against her still warm lips. Had that really just happened?  
  
"Hermione, look." He tried again, but she shook her head.  
  
"What was that?" She looked up at him sharply, her eyes widened and her face set quite seriously.  
  
Ron looked as if she'd just given his ego the harshest of blows. Crinkling up his forehead embarrassedly, he quietly mumbled, "It was supposed to be a kiss."  
  
Hermione immediately turned her back and pressed her forehead against the wood of the canopy post behind her. "I don't mean what was it," she clarified instantly. "I mean why did you do it?"  
  
There was a long silence, and Hermione could feel his eyes staring into her back. She was far too confused and terrified to turn around and look at him, though. She finally heard him answer; his voice was little more than a whisper, and it sent a shiver down her spine.  
  
"Because I wanted to see what it would be like." Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as he finished with, "To kiss you."  
  
Hermione softly let out the breath she wasn't aware that she'd been holding. A million thoughts went racing through her mind, and she wasn't sure how to deal with any of them. Everything she'd ever wanted had just happened.  
  
And it terrified her.  
  
It terrified her that she could feel this way. It terrified her that Ron was the one making her feel this way. It terrified her that she wanted nothing more than to turn around and kiss him again. It terrified her that the one thing she'd been dreaming about for awhile now had finally happened. It terrified her that it was even more wonderful in real life than it was in slumber.  
  
And for all the same reasons, she was also very thrilled.  
  
Swallowing what felt like a tennis ball in her throat, she slowly turned back around. Ron looked just as terrified as she felt, and he was looking at her as if he feared that she was either going to hex him or hit him.  
  
In a very hesitant voice, she started with, "Ron..."  
  
But she didn't get any further because Ron cut her off. "I'm sorry, Hermione. Okay? I mean... I'm sorry. I didn't... If you... Do you hate me?"  
  
All the broken parts of his sentences floated through her mind as she comprehended what he'd just said. The final part shocked her beyond belief. Wrinkling up her forehead in confusion, she said, "Why would I hate you?"  
  
He looked away at something on the opposite wall. "Because I didn't even ask or anything... And... I don't know, Hermione." His voice had never sounded so nervous or sweet to her, and all she knew how to do was shake her head.  
  
"I don't hate you."  
  
"But you're mad, right?" he asked in the same small voice.  
  
Hermione simply took a hesitant step toward him. "Why would I be mad that you finally did what I'd been waiting on for months?" If she was going to tell him, she was going to tell him everything. There was no use hiding anything now.  
  
The look of shock on his face could almost have been considered humorous if it weren't for the quiet and serious tone of the event. In a stuttering voice, he said, "You... You have?"  
  
She nodded slowly.  
  
"So... You're not mad?"  
  
She shook her head, shyly meeting his eyes.  
  
He swallowed and finished with an even quiet question. "Could I... Would it be okay if I maybe... did it again?"  
  
Feeling her eyes flutter shut for the second time, she gave him a single nod of an answer. She waited breathlessly for the feel of his lips again, but instead, she felt a rather shaky palm rest gently against her cheek. Sensing his nervousness through his touch, she opened her eyes and looked at him. He was studying her so intently that she wasn't even sure that he was aware of the fact that she'd reopened her eyes. With his hand still shaking, he carefully let his fingertips drag down and over her chin; Hermione didn't move. Her breath caught slightly in her throat when his fingers moved slowly upwards and rested unmoving against her lips. She turned her eyes upward to look at him, but he was so transfixed on staring at her lips that he didn't even notice. After barely wetting his own lips, he ducked his head once again and kissed her.  
  
And once again, Hermione had no control over the way her eyes shut. The finger that had been replaced by his lips trailed with the rest of that hand slightly downward and cupped her chin. He tilted her head up just a bit as he kissed her. It was much the same as the first kiss; there was no movement to deepen it or ruin any of its pure beauty and innocence. It was a kiss simply about purity and a deeper level of caring than either of them had ever experienced before.  
  
It was beautiful.  
  
When Ron slowly lifted his head from hers, they both opened their eyes and once again stared at each other. Hermione wasn't sure why it seemed that her head was floating or why she couldn't seem to feel her legs. All she knew was that she'd never felt better.  
  
A soft, telling smile was shared between them for several moments before Ron finally bent down and picked up the book she'd given him. Glancing at it and then back up at her, he quietly said two words.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Somehow, Hermione knew he wasn't thanking her for the present.  
  
She bit down slightly on her lower lip and offered him a shy grin in response. Both of them knew that they didn't need to explain anything to each other at the moment. Because they both understood everything perfectly.  
  
He reached once again for her hand with the one of his that wasn't holding the book. Squeezing it just slightly, he managed to speak again. "Goodnight."  
  
Without thinking twice, Hermione lifted herself onto the tips of her toes and hugged him. And when he bent down to hug her back, she kissed him again. Lightly, shortly, and sweetly, their lips met.  
  
A second later when they broke apart, she smiled for what felt like the millionth time that night and said, "Goodnight."  
  
After another telling look passed between them, and he left her room.  
  
Not being able to stand it a second longer, Hermione fell rather ungracefully back onto her bed. She closed her eyes and immediately began replaying every single second of the night in her head.  
  
For once in a life full of mystery and magic, something felt real.  
  
*********************************************  
  
Well? Ahem... I hope that you are all happy now. As always, I am DYING to hear feedback- especially for this.  
  
As far as the movie goes, I've now seen it four times. Every time I think I like it more. The first time I saw it, I kept getting disappointed by all the stuff they left out, but by the second time I had nothing to be disappointed about.  
  
And I loved it!  
  
The spider scene scared the piss out of me (I have MAJOR arachnophobia), but the look on Rupert's face the whole time and the perfectly dropped line of Daniel Radcliffe, "Thank you. We'll just go..." are enough to make me even keep watching it every time.  
  
Hands down best line- "Reading? I didn't know you could read." Ha! And as a result of this movie, I have an even deeper obsession with the Malfoys. Jason Issacs was PERFECT, as, of course, was Tom Felton.  
  
And what can I say about the non-hug ending? I don't think there are enough words...  
  
Ah! Please leave feedback!!!!! 


	43. Regret?

A/N: WOW! You guys really pulled out all the stops on reviews for the last chapter! I'm so thrilled that it didn't disappoint! Thanks, thanks, thank you a million times over!!!!  
  
Disclaimer: I can wish, but it will never happen.  
  
***********************************  
  
Ron Weasley woke up the next morning feeling quite content. In fact, he couldn't remember sleeping that well in a long time, and he wasn't all too eager to wake up. His dreams had been good, and he wasn't in a hurry to leave them behind.  
  
However, he was wide awake, and there was no hope of falling back to sleep. So, he sat up and stretched, and his eye caught a glimpse of something that definitely made him do a double take. A brand new hardback edition of 'Flying With the Cannons' sat on the chair across the room. But that meant...  
  
It had been real.  
  
Oh... Bloody hell.  
  
He had actually kissed her? He had actually stood in the middle of her bedroom and kissed Hermione? Hermione Granger. His best friend.  
  
Unconsciously, he raised a trembling hand to his lips as if he would still be able to feel her there. The strangest thing, though, was that he somehow could...  
  
He found that recalling every detail of the previous night was quite easy; it seemed that every second had been etched into his mind, and he was actually thankful for this. It had been amazing. The most amazing moment of his life.  
  
And now he was scared out of his mind.  
  
He had just kissed his best friend. And now what? What had it meant to her? Had it meant just as much as it had to him? What had changed? Were they something more than friends now? Did he have to ask her if they could be? Would she just know that he wanted to be? And, oh God... How was he supposed to face her?  
  
Why did it have to happen here of all places? At her house. It couldn't have happened while they were at Hogwarts, could it? No, that would have been too simple. At least at Hogwarts there were other people and tons of places around to disappear to if things got too awkward. Here... Oh, this was insane.  
  
A loud knocking at his door jerked his attention up instantly. Immediately growing nervous, he let out what could have been considered a squeaking, "Huh?!"  
  
The door opened without another word exchanged, and Harry walked in already dressed and ready for the day. Ron raised his eyebrows at him, not aware of the fact that his chest was rising and falling rather quickly from his sped-up breathing.  
  
"What's the matter with you?" Harry asked coolly as he crossed the room and perched himself on the bed.  
  
Ron swallowed and did his very best to look as if nothing at all was the matter. "Nothing! You just... startled me is all."  
  
Harry pushed his glasses up on his nose and shrugged carelessly, stifling a yawn as he did so. "Are you ready for breakfast? I don't want to go down there by myself because I just feel weird, you know, since it's not my house. And Hermione's not up yet."  
  
"She's not?" Ron asked a little too anxiously. Good. He immediately jumped up and started fumbling around for something to wear. "Yeah, give me a second."  
  
Harry nodded lazily and lay back on the bed with another yawn. As Ron started getting dressed, Harry's eye fell on something across the room. After a second look, he wondered if what he was seeing was real. Without saying a word, he got up from the bed and went over to the chair, and his initial assumption had been right. It was brand new copy of 'Flying With the Cannons,' and it was literally glittering with newness.  
  
"Where'd you get this?" Harry asked as he picked it up and looked at the shiny cover.  
  
Ron turned around as he started buttoning up the front of a navy blue shirt over his khakis. His eyes brightened instantly, and he momentarily forgot about the task at hand as he crossed the room and stood beside his best friend to admire the beautiful book.  
  
"Hermione gave it to me for Christmas," he answered proudly, a smile showing on his face as he looked down at what was undoubtedly the best gift he'd ever gotten it. "Open it up!"  
  
Harry opened the book looked just as impressed as Ron had been. "Wow!"  
  
"Cool, huh?" Ron grinned madly until the sound of footsteps in the hall and the opening and the closing of the bathroom door drew his attention away from the book. Hermione was obviously up and now in the bathroom. Not wanting to run into her in the hallway, Ron immediately started to the door, finishing the buttons on the way. "Come on," he said quickly. "I'm starving."  
  
Harry looked at him a bit strangely, but he followed the other boy downstairs nevertheless. When they were safely downstairs and seated across from each other at the breakfast table, Ron busied himself with a bowl of cereal. For a while, neither of them spoke until Harry finally put his spoon down out of nowhere and looked up.  
  
"What is up with you?"  
  
Ron looked up jerkily. "What? Nothing's up. Why would you think there was something up?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know," Harry said half-sarcastically. "You haven't said a single word since we got downstairs, and you are awful jumpy this morning. Those would just be two little signs that something's up..."  
  
"Well, there's not," Ron said quickly.  
  
Of course, Hermione couldn't have chosen a better time to walk down the stairs and into the kitchen than that very second. She stopped briefly on the bottom stair, and Ron caught her eyes for a moment before both of them looked away at opposite wall quickly. Ron could sense that she had walked around the edge of the room and carefully sat herself down beside Harry, but he didn't dare look over to see if his assumptions were right. Instead, he pretended to become quite involved with the cereal once again. Knowing fully well that Harry was sending him strange looks and quite probably turning those same looks on Hermione, Ron didn't even dare look anywhere except the table.  
  
Finally, though, it seemed as if Harry simply couldn't take it anymore. His voice broke the silence so roughly that both Ron and Hermione started and couldn't help but look up.  
  
"What is going on?" he demanded.  
  
Ron glanced very briefly at Hermione and saw her tell him with his eyes to keep his mouth shut. He felt bad about not letting Harry in on the secret, but Harry hadn't bothered to tell him when he had started kissing people, had he? And this was even more of a big deal than Gia was. This was Hermione, after all. Hermione, who was Harry's best friend, too; they were all best friends- it wasn't just some random thing.  
  
It was Hermione.  
  
And quite clearly, Hermione did not want Harry to know. Ron couldn't help but feel a bit anxious about this, though. It wasn't as if he especially wanted to tell Harry, either, but he was instantly a little nervous over the fact that Hermione didn't want to tell him. What if that meant that everything had been a mistake and she just wanted to forget about it? What if she didn't like him at all? What if she was embarrassed?  
  
That would be the worst. He could deal if she simply just didn't like him like he liked her. He could deal if she had just been too caught up in whatever whacked out hormones they were all going through. He could even deal if she had thought that she liked him but decided she was mistaken after he'd kissed her.  
  
But he couldn't deal if she was embarrassed about it.  
  
Of course, there were a million and a half reasons why she should be. He was nobody. He wasn't a famous Bulgarian World Cup Seeker. He wasn't a Prefect or even very smart. He wasn't clever and witty like the twins. He wasn't especially handsome like Bill. Hell, he certainly wasn't the Boy- Who-Lived.  
  
He was just Ron Weasley.  
  
Just plain, old, poor, boring Ron Weasley. All in all, he basically amounted to two things- one happened to be the runt of a litter of talented and successful brothers, and the other happened to be the sidekick of the most famous fifteen year old wizard alive.  
  
And he hated it.  
  
He wanted to be something else. He wanted to be something spectacular. He wanted to do something that none of his brothers had ever done. He wanted to do something that would impress people- something other than managing to make Harry Potter as a best friend. But when it came down to it, he was nothing more than the youngest brother and an ever faithful sidekick.  
  
Why would Hermione ever want him?  
  
Ron immediately felt like he couldn't eat another bite. He was simply sickened by the realization that he'd been deluding himself for months now by thinking that she could ever possibly see him in the same way that he saw her.  
  
"Well?" Harry's voice startled him again. "What is going on?"  
  
"Nothing," Hermione answered shortly.  
  
"Seriously," Harry pressed on. "Did you two get in a fight or something? What's the matter?"  
  
Hermione put down her glass of orange juice and turned to him sharply. "Why don't you mind your own business, Harry?"  
  
There was immediate silence as all three of them, Hermione included, seemed shocked by the curt response. Ron looked up at her curiously, and Harry turned to her looking quite offended. Hermione ducked her head and mumbled, "Sorry."  
  
Harry wrinkled up his forehead a bit. "What is your problem?"  
  
"Nothing," she answered, looking quite annoyed. "I said I was sorry, okay?"  
  
Great, so not only was she avoiding him, she was also in an awful mood. Harry and Hermione had only fought on a very few rare occasions during the years that they'd all been friends. Hearing them bicker was quite unnerving to Ron, especially since he was sure that it was mostly his fault.  
  
Harry looked at her silently for another moment before pushing back his chair. "I'll see you guys later," he said tonelessly.  
  
Suddenly realizing that he was going to be left all alone with Hermione, Ron looked up and spoke for the first time in a few minutes. "Wait, Harry!"  
  
Harry stopped and looked at him curiously, as did Hermione.  
  
Ron hesitated for a second before stuttering about for an explanation. "Uh... Um, maybe you should stay here today."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Ron felt like his tongue had doubled in size, as getting words out was suddenly quite difficult. "Um, because, um, maybe Gia's a bit sick of you, you know. Maybe you two need a break... from each other. You know." He tried to sound nonchalant, but he was well aware of the fact that he was failing terribly.  
  
Hermione, seemingly catching on, got in on the act. "Oh, yeah. She hasn't had any alone time in a few weeks. Maybe you should just stay here today. Then the... three... of us could, you know, spend the day together."  
  
"Yeah," Ron added for good measure. "You know, the three of us. Together."  
  
Harry took a long moment looking from one of them to the other before shaking his head and saying in a slightly strained tone. "Uh, no, thank you..."  
  
Ron didn't know whether to feel more offended that Harry didn't want to spend time with them or more anxious because he was going to be facing the entire day alone with Hermione.  
  
He decided that feeling offended was much easier. In what he was pretty sure sounded resentful, he said, "Oh, that's nice. Good to see where your loyalties lie."  
  
"Yeah," Hermione added with a wrinkled nose. "It's not like we're your best friends or anything. I couldn't see why you would possibly want to spend some time with us."  
  
"I've seen the two of you every day of my life for the past five years."  
  
"That's an exaggeration," Ron pointed out huffily.  
  
"Not much of one." Harry looked from one to the other. "Look, is there seriously nothing going on?"  
  
"No," Hermione answered automatically. "We just thought that you might want to lower yourself for a day and spend some time with us. But if you'd rather rush off to some girl that you barely know, then that's fine." Wow, Ron had to give her credit- Hermione really knew how to lay on the thickest of guilt trips.  
  
However, it didn't work on Harry. He simply nodded once and said, "Well, yes, actually I would rather rush off to her. If it's all the same to you, of course."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and looked away. She didn't say another word.  
  
Harry gave them each one more weird look before shaking his head and exiting the house through the backdoor, grabbing his coat on the way. As soon as the door closed, though, Ron instantly wished for something to come along and strike him dead. Cruciatus couldn't be anything compared to this.  
  
This was torture.  
  
There was this silence- and not the same sweet awkward silence they'd been used to. This was a silence that, had it not been completely soundless, would undoubtedly be screaming, 'You kissed each other! You're best friends! Hahaha! What are you going to do now?!' In fact, it rather sounded like Peeves.  
  
When it seemed like the silence was going to swallow them both alive, Hermione finally pushed her chair away from the table and started clearing the table. "Are my parents gone?" she asked distantly as she loaded the bowls into the dishwasher.  
  
"Yeah," Ron answered, thankful for the break in silence. "I can't believe they have to work the day after Christmas."  
  
"It would suck, wouldn't it?" Hermione's voice sounded odd, as though she were simply grasping around for any sort of conversation.  
  
Not knowing what else to do, Ron shrugged and got up to bring his own dishes to the sink. "Yeah, guess so." He placed his bowl and glass into the dishwasher and watched as Hermione shut it and leaned against the counter. He stood there looking at her for several moments until they both turned away at exactly the same moment.  
  
"Ron..."  
  
"Hermione..."  
  
Their names were said at the exact same time, too, and they both looked back at each other for a moment. A nervous laugh escaped Hermione's lips, and her face turned a slightly brighter color than normal. Ron couldn't help but think of how beautiful she was.  
  
After two seconds of her nervous little giggle, she stopped, and the awkwardness was back in full force. Struggling for her voice, she said something that terrified him beyond belief.  
  
"We need to talk, don't we?"  
  
Ron couldn't believe that such little words could frighten him so badly, but they did. She wanted to talk. Oh, yeah. Right. They could go back to talking like everything was normal, like they were nothing more than best friends, like everything in the world hadn't changed the night before. She wanted to talk.  
  
"Uh, yeah." It was his answer; he couldn't quite believe that he agreed to it because he was positive that he'd rather be serving an entire semester of detentions with Snape and Filch than talking to Hermione Granger at that moment, but the words were out of his mouth before he could control them.  
  
There was another long pause in the conversation until Hermione finally swallowed once and nodded. "Right, then. Well, let's go into the sitting room."  
  
She didn't wait for an agreement; she simply brushed quickly past Ron and went into the living room. He had no choice but to follow her. He noticed that instead of sitting down on one of the chairs or the couch, Hermione settled herself cross-legged on the coffee table and motioned for him to sit across from her on the sofa. Not really too disappointed by the fact that she didn't want to sit next to him, as he wasn't sure he would be able to handle close proximity with her anyway, he settled himself on the couch and immediately pretended to be quite interested in the cushion beside him.  
  
He hated this silence.  
  
Luckily for him, Hermione apparently hated it, too. Taking the initiative he couldn't muster, she sighed quietly and said, "Well..."  
  
He looked up then and saw that she was looking just as nervous as he was. Not knowing what else to do, he repeated her statement. "Well."  
  
It was the same way they'd started out last night, but last night had turned into so much more. He almost hated the way he could remember it so vividly; he'd much rather forget it than hear her tell him it was a mistake and be plagued by the memory of it.  
  
She twisted her hands nervously in her lap. In a very quiet voice, she managed to whisper, "I don't know what to say."  
  
Ron was suddenly hit with a boldness that he hadn't previously known. "Hermione, if it was a mistake, just tell me, okay?"  
  
She looked up at him in half-disbelief. Furrowing her brow, she sounded like she couldn't quite believe her ears. "If it... a... a mistake?"  
  
Ron nodded slightly. "Yeah... I mean, you know, if you... if you regret it, then just tell me." He really wanted nothing more than her honesty.  
  
Hermione just looked at him for a long moment before pursing her lips slightly and saying, "You think I regret it?"  
  
Suddenly uncomfortable, Ron looked away and shrugged just slightly. "I don't know... I mean, maybe you didn't mean it." Blushing a little, he said, "Hormones, you know."  
  
There was another painfully long minute of silence before Hermione spoke in sputtering disbelief. "Hormones?!"  
  
Okay, so this was embarrassing. Ron ducked his head and shrugged again.  
  
Hermione was still sputtering about her words. "Hormones?! You kissed me because of your ruddy hormones?!" Her voice was a mix of unbelievable shock and also a tad of anger. It was also the first time either of them had used the word 'kissed' all morning; it was frightening.  
  
"I wasn't talking about me," Ron said immediately, not willing to let her believe that he had only kissed her because, as a fifteen year old boy, he'd have to be out of his mind not to be attracted to her. She was so, so much more than that, and if he had to tell her just how much more to get her to believe him, he would. "I kissed you because I wanted to," he said, most of the fear dropping away as he relied on his honesty to guide him. "Because I've been wanting to for a long time. It wasn't just hormones."  
  
"And you think that it was for me?" Her voice had softened a little, but she still sounded as if she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing.  
  
Ron looked up and met her eyes for the first time in awhile. "I don't know if it was," he admitted quietly. "I don't know why you would want... I mean, it's me, Hermione."  
  
"What does that mean?" she asked, her eyes searching his for an explanation.  
  
He sighed, some of the nervousness coming back. He wasn't going to let it get in the way, though; there were too many things that had to be said, and he was dead-set on telling her every one of them. "Hermione, you know that you're gorgeous." She blushed a little, but he went on anyway. "And you're the smartest person I've ever met. And you're... you're just everything, Hermione." He looked away and finished much more quietly. "And everything doesn't match with nothing."  
  
A terrible feeling of dread settled over him when she didn't say anything. Maybe she'd finally come to her senses and realized that she could have her pick of anyone and definitely did not want Ron Weasley.  
  
However, after what seemed like an eternity of silence, she stood up and bent down to take his face into her hands and force him to look up at her. He met her eyes fearfully but relaxed when she shook her head and spoke in the most serious of tones.  
  
"It wasn't hormones."  
  
And then she lowered her head and kissed him.  
  
There was nothing else like it; there truly wasn't. It was so incredibly cliché, but he couldn't help thinking that he could feel her in every part of his soul when she pressed her lips against his. Her lips were so soft, and everything just felt so natural that it was hard to believe they'd only kissed for the first time the night before.  
  
It was amazing, and he never, ever wanted to stop. It was everything he'd dreamed of and then some.  
  
Hermione lifted her head a few seconds later and looked at him silently before nudging him over with her knee a bit and settling down between him and the arm of the sofa. He could have scooted over a bit and given her more room, but he liked feeling her so close to him. He enjoyed having her squeezed beside him; it was nice.  
  
He didn't know what to say, so he simply turned his head slightly and looked at her, a thousand pounds having been lifted from his chest. If it wasn't hormones and she'd kissed him out of her own free will then maybe... Just maybe.  
  
Hermione swallowed and pushed some hair away from her face before she started talking. Her voice was just the tiny bit shaky, as though she couldn't quite make the words sound right in her head. "Ron... Don't ever say that you're nothing, okay?" He started to look away, but she grabbed his hand and caught his attention. "Don't you realize how much you are to me?" Feeling his cheeks heat up, Ron was insanely thankful that they were alone. Hermione smiled just slightly and said, "You're my best friend."  
  
He wanted to be a lot more than best friends, but he didn't dare interrupt her.  
  
"I think you know me better than my own parents do," she said honestly. "You've always been there for me, and you have no idea what that means." She gave him another tiny grin, "And no one else has ever burped up slugs for me."  
  
He laughed slightly at the thought. It was one of those memories that just sort of stuck with them; it was one of the significant moments in their friendship, much the same as the moment they exchanged embarrassed, 'Thank yous,' after the whole mountain troll incident. It was a monumental moment- the first time he'd ever really stood up for her but certainly not the last. He'd often wondered why he'd always felt such an overwhelming need to defend her against anyone and anything; he knew now that it was because he'd rather see himself get hurt than see her in any sort of pain.  
  
She pushed another loose strand of hair behind her ear with her free hand as she quietly said, "I just want you to know that it wasn't a mistake."  
  
They shared a private look, and then Ron threw all of his insecurities away and kissed her again.  
  
And they both knew that there was nothing at all to regret.  
  
*************************  
  
Well, there's another chapter for you. I know I'm spending a lot of time on the Christmas holiday, but this is a very important time for the romantic aspect of the story. I hope you guys don't mind this.  
  
Please review! I'll love you forever!!!!  
  
PS- Did anyone see the Harry Potter spoof on South Park last week? The main kids were playing Lord of the Rings, but all the other kids in town were caught up on playing Harry Potter. It was hilarious!  
  
Classic line- Eric Cartman: "Fine. Go ahead and play Harry Butthole Pussy Potter!"  
  
Haha, it was just really funny. I was just wondering if anyone else caught it... 


	44. The Awe Factor

A/N: THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!!!!!  
  
Dislcaimer: None of them belong to me. I don't think it's ever going to change, either..  
  
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Three days later, Hermione's hometown was hit with a snowstorm that could rival any of those experienced on the Scotland grounds of Hogwarts. It was one of those storms so big that had it not been Christmas holiday, all of the local schools would have been cancelled. As it was, her mother and father were both detained in their city office until the roads were cleared. They'd called and apologized for having to cancel on the early afternoon that they'd promised. Hermione had tried her very best to sound upset by the news that her parents wouldn't be home early enough to take them all out to a late lunch; however, she was actually quite pleased that they were being forced to stay out for a bit longer.  
  
It definitely gave her more time to research her new favorite subject.  
  
Ron's lips.  
  
It had been three nights ago that they'd shared their first kiss in her bedroom. The memory of it still surpassed all monumental moments in her life, including the afternoon she received the most curious piece of mail she'd ever gotten- from an owl two months before her eleventh birthday. Even realizing that she wasn't merely a freak who "accidentally" made things happen without really meaning to couldn't beat out the way it felt to kiss Ron Weasley.  
  
Not that they had really done an awful lot of kissing... It had been more like a few stolen kisses here and there whenever no one else was around. Hermione sighed every time she thought about it; it was terribly romantic, in her opinion. They weren't rushing into anything at all; it was all so sweet and simply so innocent that she could barely stop herself from writing owls to Lavender and Parvati just to gush about the tingly feelings she kept getting whenever he was close by. Of course, it took only a second each time she had this urge to get over it; she certainly wasn't about to go spilling any secrets to Lavender Brown or Parvati Patil, but she knew that both of her roommates would go insane "Awing" over it all.  
  
She just couldn't quite describe it. It was like finally finding the exact spot in front of the fire to keep you just the right amount of warm- not too hot but definitely not too cold. It was just amazing- there was no other word to accurately describe it. How she had known Ron Weasley for five years and never given into any of this before was a mystery beyond her logic. He was so adorably sweet that she honestly didn't know how she'd denied it for so long.  
  
Just everything about the situation was truly, truly magical.  
  
They hadn't yet resorted to pulling a Gia and Harry, who, by the way, were now just as bad as Lavender and Seamus. It seemed like they simply didn't care if everyone in the world sat around and watched them snog for hours on end. Hermione often wondered if they'd ever even had a conversation that went beyond the word, "Hello." She certainly didn't see them spending too much time on anything that might be considered intellectual conversation. She couldn't help but be amused, though, at how differently Harry was acting now. Of course, much of this was a rather rude sarcasm, but he was also insanely carefree. He most definitely would never sit around Hogwarts and make out with a girl in public, as he hated any and all attention he got there unless it was on the Quidditch Pitch. Here, however, he didn't seem to mind one bit if anyone saw him literally groping the curly headed blonde he'd only just met a few weeks ago. Hermione was quite sure that he was going to have a horrible time once he had to leave and go back to school in a week. When she'd pointed this out to Ron, he'd simply shrugged and muttered something about there being ways to take care of that before turning a brilliant shade of red and looking quite shocked at himself. It had taken Hermione a few seconds to register what he'd said before she, too, turned red; however, the second their eyes had met, they'd erupted into a fit of giggles that only insanely hormonal fifteen year olds whose thoughts were occupied nearly every minute of the day by thoughts having to do with things in that general area of subject matter could.  
  
But things weren't like that between herself and Ron. They didn't need to spend twenty-three hours of the day making out like crazy to get satisfied. It was the small things that made her simply melt inside. It was the way they would kiss briefly outside of her bedroom door each night before going to sleep. It was the way he would sometimes reach for her hand under the dinner table and send her a shy grin before they each did their best to busy themselves with their plates. It was the way he would tuck her hair behind her ear when she was too engrossed in a book to notice that it had fallen into her face. It was all of those little things that made everything just perfect.  
  
And the way he kissed her was so beautiful that she couldn't think of one single reason why she'd never kissed him before. She didn't have too much experience in the subject, but she was perfectly pleased with the way things were transpiring. Of course, the fact that she had so little experience might have been what made everything so right. She'd only kissed one other person before, and kissing Ron was a world and half away from kissing Viktor Krum. For one thing, Viktor had never squeezed her hand gently and tenderly before leaning in for a kiss. And for another thing, Ron certainly hadn't shoved his tongue down her throat like Viktor had. Her first kiss had been nearly disastrous- so much, in fact, that she would just have assumed blocked it from her mind entirely. Viktor had grabbed her shoulders and kissed her without warning; it had been so much of a shock that Hermione had nearly bit him as he tried to, what seemed like, lick her tonsils. She'd never kissed anyone before and had absolutely no idea what to do, so she'd opted to just sit there and try not to vomit; it was extremely difficult. Viktor had kissed her a few more times after that, but she'd always just squeezed her eyes shut and tried desperately not to focus on how incredibly stupid she felt.  
  
It couldn't have been more different with Ron.  
  
She had been Ron's first kiss. This knowledge gave her a somewhat powerful sort of feeling but mostly sent her into her own little episode of "Awing." Kissing him gave her a sense of security that she'd never had while kissing Viktor. With Viktor, she'd been far too obsessed with trying to pretend that she wasn't as clueless as she really was. With Ron, she could completely be herself without having to pretend anything. They were learning together, which, in itself, was the biggest "awe" factor of all.  
  
She was quite content with taking things slowly and sweetly. She wanted to savor each and every moment of these early stages of romance; it was beautiful. However, there was this little nagging part of her brain that wanted to know if the type of kissing Viktor was so fond of could actually be somewhat pleasurable instead of rather sickening. So, on the afternoon that her parents definitely wouldn't be back anytime soon, she decided to do a little bit of research on the subject.  
  
Harry was off with Gia, of course, and probably wouldn't be back until sometime late, late that night. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were stuck at their office. And Hermione was sitting on the sofa curled under a blanket with Ron and watching some program on television that she had never seen before. Of course, she really wasn't seeing too much of it then, either; she was more concerned with the way her knees were actually on top of Ron's as she sat with her feet pulled over to one side on the couch. Ron, however, seemed quite intrigued by the program (as he was with everything having to do with television) and didn't bother to look up until she courageously and slyly tucked one of her hands under her knees and on top of Ron's leg. His head turned in her direction, and she offered up her most innocent and shy smile; he looked at her for a moment before grinning back at her.  
  
It was his adorable grin that gave her all the push that she needed to jump into her experiment.  
  
As conspicuously as possible, she carefully scooted just a bit closer to him and pulled the blanket just a bit tighter across them, snuggling her head under his chin as she shifted. She smiled softly to herself as she felt Ron, too, shift positions to accommodate her before reaching an arm behind her and tucking it around her waist. After reveling for a few moments at how perfectly she seemed to fit into his arms, she decided to proceed with her experiment. Tilting her head up just slightly, she kissed his cheek very gently, letting her lips linger against his skin for just a moment longer than necessary.  
  
Ron turned his head to look at her when she pulled back. Flashing him a quick little grin, she leaned in just enough to kiss him quickly against the lips. Apparently, this was all the convincing Ron needed that the television program wasn't really as interesting as it had originally appeared. Smiling back at her, he reached across her with his free hand and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, letting his hand stay on her face as he brought his face to hers for another kiss. Before they pulled away, though, the single kiss turned into three mini-kisses right in a row; they allowed the final one to last a few moments longer than the others, though, and pulled apart with identical smiles on their faces.  
  
For a long minute, they simply looked at each with shy little grins playing on their lips. She couldn't help but feel all giddy from the way that he stared at her so intently, as if he were trying to memorize her for future reference. When he spoke, his voice sounded strangely awed.  
  
"Did you know that your eyes and your hair are exactly the same color?"  
  
He certainly knew the right things to say at the right times. It was a simple observation, but it made her feel absolutely adored in every way; just the fact that he had actually noticed something so detailed about her was enough to make her giggle with glee.  
  
In a teasing tone, she said, "Well, it's a good thing your eyes aren't the same color as your hair. If they were, I'd be a bit worried... Red eyes are usually not a good thing."  
  
Ron laughed. "Well, what if my hair were blue and matched my eyes?" he questioned with raised eyebrows.  
  
Hermione pretended to ponder this for a second. "Hmm... You know, I bet Fred and George could come up with something to test that out."  
  
Ron just smirked rather triumphantly. "Wouldn't work on me!" he said with a shrug. "Weasley immunity, remember? There's at least one good thing about sharing their blood..."  
  
"You don't honestly believe that, do you?" she asked suspiciously. "You really don't think they'd slip something to you and just have you think you were immune to it?"  
  
" 'Course I don't believe it," he said obviously. "I don't trust those two any further than I can throw them- and, trust me, they weigh more than I do." He got a rather reminiscent look on his face. "I haven't trusted them since I was seven years old and they told me that Mum was hiding my birthday presents in the attic." Hermione looked at him a bit curiously, so he finished the explanation. "Of course, they locked me up there, and the ghoul entertained itself for the four hours it took Dad to find me by throwing various sharp objects at me. And do you even know how many spiders hide in dark attics?" He broke off, visibly shuddering in a not-at- all-exaggerated manner.  
  
Hermione put a hand over her mouth to keep from giggling at the story. When she finally managed to get a straight face, she said, "Well, did you at least get to peek at your presents?"  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "It was May... My birthday wasn't for another ten months; there were no presents."  
  
Hermione gave up on fighting the giggles and laughed right out. Ron tried to look offended but didn't succeed at all. He ended up laughing with her but telling her to shut up in between snickers.  
  
And just as he got caught up in the laughter, she quickly pressed her lips tightly against his.  
  
He was obviously shocked by the sudden change, but he relaxed into the kiss quite quickly. It was a bit different from their previous soft kisses, but she noted quite happily that he didn't freeze up when she carefully moved her lips over his; in fact, he even responded a bit by tilting his head just barely and giving her a better position to deepen the kiss a little. Feeling that she could get caught up in this quite quickly, Hermione raised a hand and placed it gently against the side of his neck, brushing her fingertips up and down the corner between his neck and shoulder. She felt rather than heard the soft sigh that he gave as he settled back further into the couch, turning his body just barely so that he was facing her at an easier angle, and she brought her free hand up to his shoulder when she felt his arms tighten just a tad around her waist.  
  
She knew vaguely what she was supposed to do, but she relied mostly on her instincts as she decided to put her experiment to the test. Breaking contact with his lips for a split second, she returned to the kiss with her own lips just slightly parted. They were opened in such a way that she managed to somehow catch his upper lip between her own; it wasn't exactly what she'd planned, but it was interesting nonetheless. She noticed that Ron seemed to be following her plan of going on instinct. In fact, he was doing such a good job of following his instincts that he somehow managed to catch her lower lip in a split second release from the kiss. As he did, her lips parted once again, and she shivered when she felt the outside of his lip come into very slight contact with her tongue. She felt him jerk slightly at the contact, as well, and he pulled away just slightly to look at her. It was, by far, the most involved kiss that they'd shared, and he looked a little apprehensive and just the tiniest bit nervous.  
  
Hermione thought she'd never seen anything more adorable.  
  
Biting down on her own lip just a little, she flashed him a shy little smile before carefully running a hand through his messy hair and letting both of her palms rest against the back of his neck. He watched her as she leaned forward and kissed him again, this time carefully letting her tongue just barely slip through and brush against the outside of his lips. It was all instinct, but it also felt incredibly natural- as if she'd been doing this for ages. However, she half-expected Ron to pull away from her.  
  
He didn't.  
  
Instead, he, too, followed his instincts and, not knowing anything more logical to do, opened his own mouth just a bit. Hermione was beyond thankful that he didn't take both of their open mouths as an opportunity to choke her with his tongue, as had been the last experience she'd had with such a kiss.  
  
This was the complete opposite of shocking and sickening, though.  
  
As they were both quite inexperienced, they took a long and slow time exploring the kiss and everything that went with it. Hermione felt her eyes close as Ron's tongue slowly slid over the top of hers at the exact same moment as his hand slid slowly up her back to rest in the back of her hair. All of the feelings rushing through her were amazing; there were the obvious 'wanting' feelings that she was quite familiar with and had come to know even better over the past few days. But there was so much more.  
  
She felt all warm and comfortable and adored and just perfect.  
  
It was amazing.  
  
After pulling out of the kiss, they exchanged a few tiny kisses before pulling away and looking at each other. There was something new between them now, and the knowing smiles on both of their faces proved this point perfectly.  
  
Hermione could feel that the same blush she saw coloring Ron's cheeks was mirrored on her own. However, they weren't turning red from embarrassment; it was something else all together.  
  
Ron smoothed down the back of her hair gently and flashed her one more of the lopsided grins she fell apart for. Quietly, he muttered the one word she was thinking of.  
  
"Wow."  
  
Feeling quite satisfied that her experiment had been successful and counting on the opportunity for much, much more research, Hermione quickly kissed his cheek and settled back into his arms without another word. She smiled to herself as she felt his arms once again tighten around her as she leaned her head back against his chest.  
  
One thing was for sure.  
  
She could definitely get used to this.  
  
*****************************  
  
Okay, I know this one was a bit shorter, but I needed to get it out here before I leave to go out of town. Yeah, I'll be gone until either Sunday or Monday, as it's Thanksgiving holiday.  
  
I will be back, though, you can count on that!  
  
And, as always, I adore feedback!!!!!!  
  
PS- To Maddie Lupin, who mentioned the article in MAD Magazine. Hahaha, I was laughing so hard I thought I was going to throw up! Especially at the whole, "Careful, Dobby. That's not just any old sock. Don't forget that this school only has same-sex dormitory. That's my long, cold, lonely semester sock." Or whatever the exact quote was; you know what I'm talking about. It was hilarious! 


	45. Coldness

A/N: Thanks, thanks, thanks a million times!  
  
Disclaimer: If they were mine, I would be rich. I am not.  
  
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"It is freezing out here!" Hermione jumped at the shock of the cold air the second she stepped outside. She'd been lured out of the warm house by Ron, Harry, and Gia, who had convinced her that a snowball fight was the perfect way to celebrate the last day of the year.  
  
"Gee, Hermione," Harry said sarcastically as the four of them walked around her house to the backyard. "There's a shocker. It's not like it's been snowing for three days straight or anything..."  
  
Ron and Gia snickered, and Hermione sent Harry a look she usually reserved for times when Ron was being exceptionally annoying. It was the, 'Oh, that's so funny, I forgot to laugh,' look. "Shut up," she said haughtily, shoving him forcefully and causing him to lose his balance and tumble to the ground.  
  
Once again, Ron and Gia erupted with laughter, and Hermione looked down at Harry ruefully when he gave a rather shocked sound of protest. "Serves you right."  
  
Harry looked at her for only a moment before grabbing her around the knees and yanking her to the ground beside him.  
  
"Cold now?" he asked briskly as he stood up and watched her roll from her face onto her back in the deep snow.  
  
The other two members of the group were still laughing as they watched Hermione sit up and brush some snow out of her hair. She glared at Harry. "I'll get you back," she warned dangerously. "When you least expect it. At school." She looked very pointedly at him. "Don't underestimate my abilities."  
  
There was no need for further explanation. She didn't come right out and say it, of course, because Gia was right there, but a threatened hexing from Hermione Granger- spoken or not- was enough to make anyone worry.  
  
"Let me help you up," he said with a sudden sweetness. He held his out with a friendly smile.  
  
Hermione, looking quite satisfied that her threat had properly scared her friend, took it, only to be met by one of Ron's offered hands as well. She took it, too, and just barely caught the sneaky grin passed between the boys before they started pulling her to her feet.  
  
Just as she was almost in a standing position, though, both of her 'helping hands' were yanked from her grasp with such a force that she tumbled back to the ground, landing with a thud on her butt. She didn't even have time to register her shock before she found herself being pelted with snowballs.  
  
Hermione shrieked and immediately leapt to her feet, running away as fast as she could in search of some sort of shelter. However, both of the boys happened to be extremely fast runners despite the thick snow, and they raced after her, catching her in no time at all. They knocked into her, and she almost fell to the ground again. But Ron caught her and pinned her arms behind her back, holding her tightly so that no matter how much she struggled, she was hopelessly stuck.  
  
"Let me go!" she hollered desperately.  
  
She actually didn't even get the entire plea out because Harry bent down to scoop up a handful of snow, which he proceeded to smash into her face.  
  
Hermione, still pulling against the hold that Ron had on her, tried to duck as another fistful of snow was shoved into her face. However, this, too, proved useless, as Harry grabbed her shoulders with his free hand and landed his aim perfectly.  
  
Hermione tried to look threatening as she pulled herself to her full height and glared. However, this was a feeble attempt even against Harry and quite pitiful compared to Ron.  
  
"What's the matter, Hermione?" Harry taunted. "Surely the smartest girl in the year can figure out how to get out of this." He now had both of her shoulders and Ron still had her arms pinned.  
  
Her only hope was...  
  
"I'll kick," she threatened seriously, bending her leg to prove that her knee could definitely hurt the boy in front of her while her foot could do serious damage to the one behind her. "I'll kick both of you."  
  
There was a brief silence as the two boys obviously tried to decide if she was being serious. When it was clear that she was, Harry snickered slightly and leaned closer to speak more quietly.  
  
"Try it and I'll leg-locker you." He grinned over her head at Ron. "Don't forget that wandless magic spell Sirius sent."  
  
Ron laughed, and Hermione glared defiantly. "You haven't learned that yet."  
  
But Harry just raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure about that?"  
  
Hermione was just about to stubbornly insist that he prove it, but she didn't get the chance because a snowball suddenly came whizzing through the air and smacked right into the back of Harry's head. He whipped around at the same time another snowball went soaring and landed right in the middle of Ron's face. Both boys let go of her in shock as the thrower of the snowballs came racing across the yard.  
  
Hermione shrieked with laughter just as Gia grabbed her hand and started tugging her along. The girls ran together as far away from the boys as possible. They were both laughing when they finally ducked behind a large oak tree.  
  
"Do you see how they gang up on me?!" Hermione asked as she stuck her head around the large trunk and looked for any sign of the boys, both of which seemed to have disappeared.  
  
Gia laughed. "Are they always like that?"  
  
Hermione groaned, still keeping her eyes peeled. "Always. It's awful." She searched the yard with her eyes. "And now they're gone."  
  
Gia peeked out, too. "Where did they go?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. "I don't know. But it's not a good thing," she said, frowning. "When those two disappear... Just trust me, okay? It's not good."  
  
The blonde giggled. "Know from experience, do you?"  
  
Thinking of the thousands of pranks that had been played on her through the years, she nodded ruefully. "Troublemakers, the both of them," she added.  
  
Gia laughed again. "Well, they can't hide themselves too well," she pointed out. "It's pretty much an open yard, and it's not like they can make themselves invisible."  
  
Hermione's brown head jerked in the other girl's direction at the suggestion. She searched her mind for the last time they'd used the Invisibility Cloak and whether she'd seen it at her house at all. Surely, surely they weren't that stupid...  
  
But when she thought about who she was talking about... There was no telling.  
  
Growing quite anxious with no sign at all of her best friends, Hermione turned to Gia and spoke in a whisper. "Just look out," she warned. "They could be anywhere."  
  
Gia looked at her strangely, but Hermione held a finger to her lips and quietly crept out from around the tree.  
  
"Where are you?" she demanded sternly into the open air. "This isn't funny."  
  
There was no sound except for the soft crunching of snow as Gia tiptoed out to meet her. "Where are they?" she whispered.  
  
Hermione ignored the question and spoke once again to the boys, wherever they were hidden. "Come out now," she commanded in her best professor voice.  
  
Surprisingly enough, it worked.  
  
Ron and Harry stepped out from behind a tree a few yard from where the girls stood. They were wearing identical smirks, and Hermione instantly regarded them with the utmost suspicion.  
  
"Funny," she said dryly. "Hilarious."  
  
The boys just continued to smile innocently at her, though, before Harry turned his head in the direction of the other girl and spoke.  
  
"Gia, which side do you really want to be on?"  
  
Hermione immediately turned her head in the same direction and looked frantically at the blonde. Gia looked quite confused.  
  
Ron spoke next, drawing both girls attention to him. "Yeah, Gia. Choose wisely."  
  
"This could get pretty ugly," Harry said seriously. "Make sure you know what you're getting yourself into."  
  
Hermione glared sharply at her 'best friends,' and then glanced at Gia, who was now regarding the boys with raised eyebrows of her own.  
  
"Because maybe you don't know this," Ron added nonchalantly, "but Hermione really sucks at stuff like this. Are you sure you want to be on her side?"  
  
Before anyone could even speak another word, Hermione huffed and reached down to grab a handful of snow, which she packed into a perfect snowball and landed it directly in the center of Ron's face.  
  
Gia let out a shocked laugh, and Harry looked on with slightly widened eyes. Ron, quite surprised himself, reached up to brush the snow away before turning narrowed eyes on the thrower.  
  
Hermione, however, just pursed her lips triumphantly and said, "You have no clue, Weasley."  
  
This remark started an immediate firing of snowballs from each side. The competition remained boys against girls, Ron and Harry having come nowhere close to convincing Gia to join their side. Shrieks and laughter abounded as all four teenagers raced around, ducking and throwing their fair share of snow at the others. They played outside as if they were small children, simply enjoying each other's company and the happy and carefree feelings of unabridged fun.  
  
It wasn't until much later when all four of them somehow managed to run into each other in a full run, causing all of them to topple to the ground in a fit of laughter, that they gave up and decided that the cold was finally getting to them and that warm showers and hot chocolate would be the perfect afternoon treat.  
  
Gia stood up and announced that she was going to run home and get dry and would return later, but Hermione shook her head and sent another smirky little look at the boys. "No, you can shower here," she said briskly as she stood up and shook some of the snow from her clothes. "You can use the upstairs shower and I'll use the downstairs. And they," she flung her head in the direction of Ron and Harry, both of whom were still sitting in the snow, "can wait."  
  
Gia laughed and sent a somewhat sympathetic look at the boys but allowed herself to be dragged toward the house nonetheless.  
  
***********************************  
  
Thirty minutes later, both girls were in Hermione's room, bundled in thick bathrobes with their hair in towels. They'd taken as long as possible in the shower, both staying in until the water started to go cool. Then they'd let the boys have their turns, finding the fact that there was no hot water left quite amusing.  
  
"My clothes are soaked," Gia remarked as she laid the wet clothing out onto the floor.  
  
Hermione crossed the room to her dresser and pulled out two pairs of jeans, tossing one of them to Gia and the other onto her bed. Then she opened her closet and said, "Which shirt do you want?"  
  
Gia came around and peered in at the neatly hung clothes. Deciding on a fluffy gray jumper with a high neck, she pulled it out and said, "Do you care?"  
  
It was one of the shirts she'd gotten for Christmas, still new with tags and everything. But she didn't care. "Nope," she said cheerfully as she reached in and pulled out a light blue sweater for herself; it was the latest of the several jumpers Mrs. Weasley had knitted for her.  
  
Hermione didn't care about loaning her stuff to Gia. She knew that half of the things she'd gotten for Christmas would disappear as soon as she returned to school anyway. It seemed that this year especially, the Fifth Year Girls' dormitory only had one closet. She swapped clothing with Lavender and Parvati on a regular basis- well, shirts at least. Bottoms were a bit more difficult to swap, as Lavender was taller than the other two but just as thin. Parvati was closer to Hermione's height, holding only about an inch or two over her, but, while she was by no means fat, she did have more curves. And the clothes-switching didn't end with her roommates, either. Hermione had caught more than one piece of her clothing drifting around the Fourth Year dormitory girls after she'd loaned a few things to Ginny. She'd even seen Ramona Hillington, a Fifth Year Ravenclaw, wearing one of her shirts. After asking around, she found out that Parvati had loaned it to Padma who had, in turn, loaned it to one of her roommates. In some ways, it was rather amusing how quickly clothes seemed to disappear around that place.  
  
As they changed into dry clothes, the girls chatted about everything and anything. Hermione was reluctant to admit that she enjoyed it, but she did. Besides Ginny, she never really had any good girl-talk. There was a bit here and there with her roommates, but Lavender and Parvati both knew her as the serious one, and if she'd suddenly started giggling and gossiping, it would just have seemed too strange. But it was nice, nonetheless, to have someone who cared about something besides Quidditch to talk to.  
  
After they were dressed, they both pulled the towels from their heads. Hermione looked in the mirror and frowned. "I'm thinking about cutting some fringe," she said as she tried to imagine herself.  
  
Gia wrinkled up her nose and shook her head. "No, don't do that."  
  
Hermione turned back around to face the other girl. "Well, what should I do? I hate my hair!"  
  
"I think your hair is gorgeous," Gia said honestly. "I can't believe you can pull off the straight look so well. Most people with natural curls can't do the straight thing. My hair looks horrid when I straighten it," she said, running her fingers through her own set of wet curls. "But your hair is really thick, and mine's not. When I straighten it, it looks weird and just sort of hangs there."  
  
Hermione frowned. "Well, at least yours doesn't look bad when you wear it naturally. Mine is a mess if I don't straighten it."  
  
While both girls had naturally curly hair, their curls were quite different. Gia's were tight and springy, while Hermione's were looser and more frizzy. It really wasn't fair.  
  
Gia laughed. "Are you kidding? My hair would be a complete disaster if I just let it go." Hermione looked at her curiously, so Gia demonstrated by opening her purse and pulling out a jar of some sort of clear gel. "I have to use this every time I dry my hair," she explained, twisting the lid off and getting some of the gel onto her fingers. She ran it through her hair and then used her fingers to scrunch the curls up. "If I don't do this, it's a mess." When she was finished, she shook her head slightly and picked up the hair dryer on Hermione's vanity. "Then you just dry it on low heat," she explained.  
  
Hermione watched as Gia's hair dried and the same beautiful curls she always wore started to take shape. Hermione had never minded her curls, it had always been all the added tangles and frizz that had gotten on her nerves so badly. But when her hair had been curled nicely for the Halloween Ball, she'd thought it was pretty; maybe she could use this stuff and get her hair to tame itself. She raised the jar to her nose and smelled it.  
  
Gia finished and stood up, taking the jar from Hermione and pointing to the chair. "Sit," she said simply, and Hermione did as she was told. Taking some of the gel, Gia applied it to Hermione's hair and started the scrunching. "It's really easy once you know how to handle them," she said smiling at the other girl in the mirror. Hermione returned the smile and waited patiently as Gia dried her hair. It took awhile since her hair was so thick, but the result was stunning.  
  
Other than the Halloween Ball, Hermione had never once seen her hair curly in a way that she liked. Even at the ball, her hair had been in ringlets and didn't look natural. However, when she looked in the mirror after Gia set the dryer back down, she couldn't help but grin. Her hair still wasn't tight and springy like Gia's because their hair textures weren't the same, but it was really nice in its own way, spilling over her shoulders in long, smooth, loose curls.  
  
"Thanks," she said with a smile as she stood up and turned around to try and see the back.  
  
Gia laughed. "Here, you can have this," she said, setting the jar on the table. "I've got more at home."  
  
Hermione smiled again. "Thank you."  
  
Gia grinned and admired the other girl for a moment. "That jumper is really nice," she said, reaching out to touch the pale blue material of the sweater. "Where did you get it?"  
  
Hermione glanced down. "Oh! Ron's mum made it for me."  
  
"Really?" Gia looked impressed.  
  
"Yeah, she always knits us jumpers. Every Christmas."  
  
Gia smiled wistfully. "You are so lucky."  
  
Because she had a blue jumper? Hermione raised an eyebrow in question.  
  
Gia just gave a long sigh. "You're lucky to have such close friends. I was watching the three of you today, and it's just obvious how close you all are. Even if they do torture you," she added grinning, "you can tell it's in a very loving way."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes at the last part. But Gia was right; she was lucky to have friends like that, and she knew it. Seeing the strange look on Gia's face, though, she said, "Well, everyone has friends."  
  
"Yeah," Gia agreed. "But not like that. Or at least I don't."  
  
"Gia, I know you have tons of friends," Hermione said, thinking back to primary school when Gia had always been the first picked anytime they were told to partner up. There had never been a day when Gia had been the one left over in gym class after the teams were already equal. Hermione had, however, been that one many times. In fact, it seemed the only time Hermione was ever chosen before last was when a grade was resting on group work; then everyone had raced to be her partner.  
  
Gia shrugged. "Yeah. But none of us are close like you guys are. Celeste is probably the best friend I've got, and sometimes I think we're only friends because everyone expects us to be."  
  
Hermione thought about her friendship with Harry and Ron. No one had expected her to be their friend; she certainly hadn't expected to be friends with the duo of prats who teased her and always had a snide comment for her in their first months of school. But fate has a funny way of working, and they did end up as friends.  
  
Best friends.  
  
"We just compliment each other," she said with a shrug. "And besides," she added with a grin, "there's no telling what trouble they'd get into if I wasn't around to keep them in line."  
  
Gia laughed. "Well, can you believe this?" She motioned between them. "I mean, did you know it was me that put that bug in your juice when we were six?"  
  
Hermione's face flattened. "It was milk," she corrected briskly. "And, yes, I did know it was you."  
  
Gia was obviously trying very hard not to giggle, but it was to no avail. And pretty soon, both girls were laughing together at the memory. "I'm sorry," Gia apologized though broken giggles.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Trust me, I've come into contact with far worse things than beetles being snuck into my food." She flopped down onto her bed. "You've never met Ron's brothers."  
  
"He's got brothers?"  
  
Hermione laughed. "Yeah. There's seven kids in his family."  
  
"Seven?!" Gia's eyes widened at the thought of such a large family. "How old are they?"  
  
Hermione thought for a second to get all of the ages right. "He's got one brother that's twenty-six and then one that's twenty-four. Then another brother that's twenty. And then there's his twin brothers who are seventeen- those are the ones you have to watch your food around. Then Ron and then his sister, Ginny. She'll be fifteen in February."  
  
Gia processed all of that and shook her head in disbelief. "So, six boys and just one girl?" Hermione nodded. "And Ron's the youngest of the boys?"  
  
Hermione nodded again. "Yes. And his mum is pregnant again. That baby is due at the beginning of April."  
  
"She's pregnant again?!" Gia couldn't even imagine it. "So, eight children... Is she mad?"  
  
Hermione giggled. "You would think so. Especially if you knew all his siblings... Why she'd want more is beyond me."  
  
Gia laughed and brushed some of her hair out of the way. "Does she know what she's having yet?"  
  
"No, she doesn't want to find out," Hermione lied, leaving out the fact that no one in the wizarding world ever found out the sex of their baby before it was born. "Ron and the twins- they're his only brothers left at school- say it's going to be a boy. But Ginny says it will be a girl, and I hope it is."  
  
"Well, his mum must be Wonder-Woman if she can knit you a jumper with all those other children." Gia grinned and sat down opposite of Hermione.  
  
"And Harry," Hermione added with raised eyebrows. "Of course, that's a given because Mrs. Weasley simply adores all things Harry Potter." She shook her head slightly. "She's been trying to adopt him for five years now."  
  
Gia giggled. "Well, who wouldn't want to adopt him? He is awfully cute."  
  
Hermione just raised her eyebrows again. "If you say so," she teased with a hidden grin.  
  
"Hey!" Gia protested through another fit of giggles. "He is."  
  
Hermione smiled. "You must really like him, huh?"  
  
Gia blushed just a bit and stopped giggling. Softly, she said, "Yeah. A lot." She looked up, her green eyes glittering in the light of the bright room. "Maybe a bit too much."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
Sighing, the blonde shrugged slightly. "Well, you guys are going back to school in six days, and I can't stand the thought of it. I know it's only been a few weeks, but I've grown quite attached..." She bit down on her lower lip and chewed it thoughtfully. "And I've never felt this way before. Ever."  
  
Okay, so maybe Hermione had been wrong in her assumption that Harry and Gia had never had a real conversation. It suddenly appeared to be something much deeper than that.  
  
Gia went on, her eyes suddenly looking distant. "He's the only person I've ever met that just completely gets it. He understands- he understands what it's like..."  
  
Hermione considered this statement. Harry was an orphan; by all accounts that mattered, Gia might as well have been considered one. They had that in common, yes, but what else? She couldn't see it, but perhaps it was there. But while Harry might have understood what it was like to be Gia, no one would ever understand what it was like to be Harry Potter. Hermione suddenly wondered how Harry was handling not being able to tell Gia about the biggest part of his life; if they were really as close as it seemed, then it must have been horrible. Hermione couldn't imagine.  
  
"Maybe I shouldn't have gotten this involved," she said wistfully. "Because I don't know what I'm going to do when he goes back to school."  
  
Hermione thought about this, too. Harry was going to have a world of trouble handling it, too, but for far more reasons other than leaving behind his girlfriend (if that's what they were- no one had informed her, so she just assumed). Going back to school would mean going back to the real world. Hermione almost laughed at this thought; the "real" world, as she'd just referred to it, was magical and completely unimaginable to most people. But to them, it was reality- a sometimes cruel and harsh reality.  
  
Hermione loved the wizarding world, and she couldn't imagine what her life would be like if she'd never been introduced to it. But while it may have been her true home, it wasn't the dream it had seemed at first. There was a war going on there, whether it was acknowledged as such or not was indifferent. There was a war.  
  
And Harry Potter was at the center of it.  
  
The "real world" held a life of pain for Famous Harry Potter. The "real world" had the orphaned youth shoved into a fame that he did not want. The "real world" had a crazed wizard with evil, dark powers who wanted nothing more than to murder the fifteen year old.  
  
And the "real world" held a prophecy that could possibly mean the end for the Boy Who Lived.  
  
Or for either of his best friends.  
  
Yes, in six days, they would go back to Hogwarts. They would go back to school and back to class, and Hermione would badger the boys about studying for the O.W.L.s. The boys would attend Quidditch practice, and Hermione would sit in the stands, grinning as she watched them. They would all visit the House-Elves- Hermione to speak with them as equals and Ron and Harry to nick food they couldn't get at regular meals. They would exchange daily insults with Malfoy, and they would spend a good deal of time avoiding the other Slytherins. Professor McGonagall would lecture them, Professor Flitwick would praise them, Professor Lupin would joke with them, and Professor Snape would sneer at them.  
  
And things would be "normal."  
  
As normal as they could get for three fifteen year olds who were facing what could possibly be something far worse than the O.W.L.s.  
  
But it was their destiny.  
  
A knock on the bedroom door drew both girls' attention, and Hermione, knowing fully well who was on the other side, said, "Who is it?"  
  
"Peter Pan," came Harry's dry answer.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes, momentarily forgetting about her previously melancholy thoughts. "Sorry," she called back sarcastically. "Wendy isn't here."  
  
"Who the hell is Wendy?"  
  
Hermione hid her smile as Ron's confused question, obviously posed at Harry, floated through the door. Apparently, 'Peter Pan' was one story the Weasley children had never been exposed to. Gia looked befuddled, too, as to why Ron had no idea who Wendy was.  
  
Harry obviously ignored Ron's question and spoke back through the door. "Is Gia in there?"  
  
"Yeah," Gia called back, getting up to open the door. She turned back to Hermione momentarily and grinned. "I'll see you later, okay?"  
  
Hermione nodded and watched as the other girl opened the door and disappeared with her best friend. A second later, Ron took her place in the room and stepped in, shutting the door behind him.  
  
He stopped when he saw her, and a look of pleased wonderment covered his pale features. "Your hair is curly."  
  
Hermione, who had already forgotten her new/old hairstyle, raised a hand to her hair and absently twirled one of the curls between her fingers. "Do you like it?" she asked nervously; his opinion meant more to her now than it ever had. This fact gave her a giddy sort of start.  
  
Ron was silent as he crossed the room to have a better look. She was still seated on the bed and watched him through thick lashes as he raised a hand and twirled a curl that sat rather close to the one she was fingering. After a minute, he released the curl and moved his hand just slightly to pull her own fingers away from her hair. When she dropped the lock, he caught her hand in his own and brought it between them.  
  
With a little lopsided grin that Hermione simply melted for, he said, "It's perfect."  
  
Knowing that she would never again go through the trouble of straightening her hair, Hermione smiled shyly back at him.  
  
If she'd been outside in the snow at that moment, she still would have been completely warm.  
  
************************  
  
Ack! That chapter took awhile to get out. Sorry!!! There's still a few more chapters left for the holiday and then back to Hogwarts!  
  
Next up, New Years!  
  
I'll love you forever if you leave me a line!!! 


	46. Is It Possible?

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!! You guys are the best!  
  
Disclaimer: You know this bit already.  
  
************************  
  
The prospect of ringing in the New Year with someone other than Ron and Hermione for a change was rather appealing to Harry, especially since the someone happened to be quite beautiful, happened to be quite good at kissing, and happened to have a quite empty house. Gia's father and step- mother had gone to Paris for the entire weekend, leaving Gia to housesit and take care of the pets. Of course, the entire weekend was really only two nights, one of which had already passed. However, the night they were facing was different than the last for one major reason.  
  
The Grangers also happened to be out of town for the evening.  
  
They were attending some fancy party in London and weren't expected back until sometime late the next morning. They'd left around six and had left strict instructions that their house had better be in the same shape when they got back as it was when they left. Of course, Harry really didn't have any concern for these instructions, as he didn't plan on being there anyway. Gia had asked if he could get away with not being at the Grangers for the night, and since the opportunity was simply too easy to pass up, he promised that he'd stay with her. He wasn't really worried about getting into trouble because the only people who would know where he was would be Ron and Hermione, and they certainly wouldn't tell on him. Of course, the fact that the only two people who would know would be Ron and Hermione was the only aspect of the night that was unappealing.  
  
They would be the only two to know because they'd be the only two in the house. Which, of course, meant that they'd be alone in Hermione's house. All night. Together.  
  
Harry wasn't blind; he was well-aware of the fact that they liked each other. He'd tried to ignore it at first, but some things were just too hard to miss. He'd seen it before they left school, and he saw it even more now. He actually wondered if something was already going on and they weren't telling him; all of the shared little looks between his best friends certainly made it seem that way. But would they really keep something like that from him? Harry didn't think so. At least he didn't want to think so- that was a big secret to keep, and if they were keeping it, then that would be the first sign in the slow breakdown of the 'trio.' It would be the first sign of 'two with one on the side.'  
  
Harry didn't like the sound of that.  
  
The thought of them together was bad enough; the thought of them together and keeping it a secret from him was just too much to ask. They were supposed to be a team. They weren't supposed to have secrets.  
  
Of course, Harry hadn't been completely open to them about his relationship with Gia, but that was different. Gia wasn't Hermione. She wasn't their best friend. It wasn't the same.  
  
But Harry had pushed all thoughts of Ron and Hermione out of his head by the time he fell asleep beside Gia, in her bed. The night had been good. Very good. They'd counted down to the New Year and shared a wonderful kiss just after midnight. Mix that in with a fair amount of snogging on the side, and you'd have the perfect evening. He could hardly believe how nice it felt to lie there beside her with an arm draped over her waist. It felt incredibly grown up and... and just right. It had been so easy to drop off into a peaceful sleep like this that Harry hadn't really had time to ponder anything at all. He'd made sure not to sleep too soundly though; if they both fell into deep sleeps, it was possible that they would oversleep, and that was something they definitely didn't want to do.  
  
It was because of this light sleep that he jerked awake so easily at the first sign of movement beside him. He remembered immediately where he was, and his first thought was that morning had come far too quickly for his taste. However, upon opening his eyes, he realized that her room was still flooded with darkness, and that Gia hadn't simply stirred, she had extricated herself completely from his grasp. Something like hurt settled over him for a moment, and he was surprised at how empty he felt the second she sat up beside him.  
  
He watched her for a moment, taking the sight of her in. She was dressed in a pale pink tank top and shorts, which was, by far, the most revealing outfit he'd had the pleasure of seeing her in due to the cold December weather. She was thin, but her arms were delicately defined with small muscles, and the shirt lifted up just enough to reveal the side of her defined stomach as the cover dropped away from her. He let his eyes wonder over the other parts of her, too, as she sat in full view of him. Her legs were long for the relatively short height that she filled, and she was like Hermione in the fact that she wasn't really big anywhere at all, but not really lacking, either. Harry blushed slightly when he realized just how many times he'd caught himself looking at Hermione's figure over the past year, but he didn't miss the fact that Gia's figure was an awful lot like his female best friend's, the main exception being the fact that Gia quite obviously worked out and had a bit more muscle than Hermione did; apparently lifting a three ton book satchel wasn't enough to tone Hermione's arms. Gia's hair was a mess of curls that looked absolutely tantalizing as the moonlight reflected off her blonde and golden highlights.  
  
She truly was beautiful.  
  
But something was wrong.  
  
She was staring at something that Harry couldn't see, and he wondered why she was completely ignoring his presence. Reaching onto the bedside table for his glasses, he slipped them onto his face and sat up beside her.  
  
"Gia?"  
  
She gave no indication of having heard him at all. In fact, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Not saying a word, she walked straight for her door, opened it, and exited into the hallway. For a split second, Harry contemplated whether or not he should go after her; if she wasn't speaking to him, then she probably didn't want him following her. But then again, she hadn't really looked as if she even knew where she was, and he wasn't sure that was such a great thing.  
  
Not hesitating any longer, Harry got out of the bed and followed her into the dark hallway. He barely caught a glimpse of her as she disappeared down the stairs. Rushing to catch up, he managed to see her turn the corner at the bottom of the stairs, continue down the main corridor, and shut herself in a room near the end of the hall. He was at the door in seconds and knocked timidly. "Gia?" There was no answer. "Gia, are you okay?"  
  
When she still didn't answer, Harry took it upon himself to open the door and enter. It was a small room; a few bookshelves lined one wall while a sewing machine backed against another. An oversized rocking chair sat in the center of the room, and Harry saw immediately that Gia had curled up in the chair, her knees pulled to her chest and her face in her lap. Her hair spilled out over her shoulders as she hugged her legs tightly. For a long moment, Harry just watched her.  
  
She had no idea he was in the room.  
  
In fact, he wasn't even sure that she was awake.  
  
Swallowing a bit uneasily, Harry carefully crossed the room and knelt in front of the chair. "Gia?" he asked softly. Her eyes were open, but they were dazed and unfocused; she gave no sign of having heard him at all. With a slightly shaking hand, he reached up and nervously touched her arm. "Are you okay?" He squeezed it slightly. "Gia, wake up."  
  
All of a sudden, she shook her head and lifted it from her knees. She seemed startled to have someone speaking to her, and Harry watched as her eyes turned back to normal and she finally looked at him. It took her a moment to get oriented, but immediately after figuring out what was going on, she let her legs drop to the floor and sat up very straight. Her face was flushed, and she looked extremely embarrassed; she looked away from him, biting her lower lip.  
  
Harry didn't know what to do. It was very awkward for both of them, but he figured he should at least say something. They silence certainly wasn't helping the situation. "Are you alright?" It was quiet and reserved, clearly telling her that he would listen if she wanted him to but wouldn't prod if she didn't.  
  
At the sound of his voice, Gia turned back to him, and her green eyes met his own as they shared a very telling look. "I'm sorry," she mumbled quietly, never breaking eye-contact. "I'm fine. It's... I sleepwalk." She pursed her lips slightly.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"I should have told you," she went on softly. "But I don't do it that often anymore. I didn't think... I haven't done it in awhile."  
  
Harry watched her, giving her the freedom to speak as she wished. Her voice continued in quiet, calm intervals.  
  
"But this was my mum's room. Her hobby room," she clarified softly. "I... I don't come down here unless I'm asleep..."  
  
"Are you okay now?"  
  
She nodded, chewing on her lower lip slightly. "Yeah... Yeah, I'm fine. Let's go."  
  
She stood up and walked past him, not looking back as she exited the room and headed back down the corridor toward the stairs. Harry stood up slowly and followed her out of the room, shutting the door carefully and ignoring the little shiver that shot through him.  
  
As he made his way back to Gia's room, he thought about her. He wondered if sleepwalking was as far as it went. Or was she plagued with images of her mother's dying self in the hospital bed the same way he was plagued with the sound of his mother's dying screams. He'd had nightmares for as long as he could remember. But even when he'd been very small, they'd never been normal childhood nightmares like fear of what was hiding in the corners or of the monsters under the bed. He'd seen strange images, twisted images of darkness and misery- images that shouldn't have had a look but somehow did, images that a child shouldn't have known. As he'd gotten older, the nightmares had defined themselves more, and when he'd finally learned the truth about his parents' deaths, he'd started dreaming about that night so many years before. It was silly, of course; he couldn't really remember it, but it somehow felt like he could see it perfectly in his dreams. The whole night was completely clear and in an odd third person sort of view; he saw it from an outsider's point of view and not through the eyes of a baby. He could see his father trying to block the door, hear the shouted words of fury, see the green flash, hear his mother scream his dad's name, see her cradle him tightly, hear the words again, and see the next green flash.  
  
It was real.  
  
And things were worse now than they'd ever been. His dreams were now mixed with so many other things beside just the images of his parents being murdered. He saw Cedric's dead body, heard his final request that his body be taken back to his parents. And, of course, he heard His voice- Voldemort's.  
  
"Kill the spare."  
  
The spare. Voldemort didn't even know Cedric's name, didn't give a damn who he hurt as long as he got at the one he wanted more than anyone else. Harry.  
  
His dreams were plagued by this thought nightly. Each night, his brain rambled on and on about what had been and what was to come. Who would be the next spare?  
  
Colin Creevey? Hagrid? Seamus Finnigan? Professor Lupin? Parvati Patil? Dumbledore? Sirius?  
  
Hermione?  
  
Ron?  
  
Did it matter to Voldemort who he had to dispose of in order to achieve his goal? Did he care at all that none of those people had ever done anything wrong? Did it bother him that he had no conscience?  
  
Of course not. In fact, the entire last question was nothing but a very morose oxymoron.  
  
He simply didn't care.  
  
Voldemort would do whatever he had to do to get at Harry. And Harry saw this each night as he drifted off to sleep. He faced a horrible decision each and every night- stay awake and let his mind wander aimlessly in the darkened quiet or go to sleep and watch his best friends being tortured and murdered.  
  
Neither was any better than the other.  
  
Lost in thoughts of his dreams, Harry barely noticed that he'd reached Gia's room. He looked up finally and saw her standing by her bureau, still chewing nervously on her lower lip. She met his eyes again, and he saw something in them that was rather sacred and somehow managed to make all thoughts of Voldemort disappear.  
  
"Thank you." Her voice was still quiet and a bit shaky, barely a whisper but perfectly audible.  
  
Harry watched her as she slowly crossed the room; neither of them said a word, but the looks being shared between them were enough to speak volumes. Gia stopped in front of him and timidly raised a hand to his neck and let it sit there.  
  
"No one's ever come to find me before." She looked meaningfully at him and raised herself onto tip-toe to place a soft kiss against his lips. She lowered herself and continued to stare at him; he felt he could melt from the intensity of her look. It was amazing. Placing her other hand on his back, she pulled him to her just a bit and used the hand that was still resting against his neck to draw him down to her, gently pressing her lips against the skin right below his ear. She placed another tiny kiss right at the bottom of his lobe and quietly whispered something that tore at his heart. "I don't want you to leave."  
  
He understood without further clarification exactly what she meant. She'd spent her entire life with no one who really cared; she had friends, sure, but none of them had ever really listened to her. He was like the first real friend she'd ever had, and Harry remembered perfectly the feelings he'd gotten the first time he'd realized he finally had real friends- the first time he'd found someone who actually cared.  
  
But he and Gia weren't just friends- their connection was deeper than that. And Harry became completely aware of just how deep their connection went when she slowly dragged her lips across the lower part of his jaw-line and up to his lips. She kissed him there finally in a long and slow torture that he wouldn't have dreamed of stopping.  
  
Harry had learned several things over the past few weeks, not the least of which had been how easy it was to get caught up in Gia. They'd engaged themselves in several make-out sessions, and Harry had enjoyed them. Immensely.  
  
But this was quite different.  
  
Her lips were moving under his in a slow and meaningful way, and Harry allowed himself to be guided through the kiss. He shivered slightly as he felt the hand that was resting on his back, snake under the material of his shirt; her fingernails grazed gently against his skin, and Harry's own hands somehow found their ways onto her hips. He could kiss her forever, he was sure of it, and never tire.  
  
Especially the way she was kissing him right now.  
  
The other hand dropped, too, and found its way under the back of his t- shirt as well. He wanted to focus on the way it felt to be kissed and touched at the same time by a girl, but he also knew that focusing on such was only going to get him worked up in a rather painful way- something he'd come to know quite closely over the past few weeks. It wasn't his fault, of course; he couldn't help the fact that he was a fifteen year old boy. But it was rather hard to keep a clear head when she was rubbing her fingertips into his skin.  
  
She pulled away from the kiss just slightly but didn't remove her hands from their hiding place under his shirt. "What sport do you play?" she asked breathlessly.  
  
He raised an eyebrow and looked at her curiously. "Huh?" He was surprised that he could even manage a single syllable.  
  
"You have muscles," she explained, running her hands up his back in demonstration. "And I know you're not naturally built like that because," she giggled and chastely kissed his lips, "you're a bit short for that."  
  
Five years of Quidditch training hadn't sent him into a growth spurt, that was sure. But it hadn't left him as scrawny and skinny as he'd once been. He really didn't notice it too much, but if Gia did... Well, then that was fantastic.  
  
"Uh," he swallowed and thought his words out carefully. "It's just this sport we play at school. It's a bit like football. People try to make goals and there's like... a goalie person..." He hoped it didn't sound stupid explained out loud. He left out the part about the brooms and the Snitch and the bone-crushing Bludgers; he somehow didn't think she'd keep on doing what she was doing if he threw that at her.  
  
And he did want her to keep going.  
  
Gia smiled at him, a shy smile that screamed of everything innocent and not- so-innocent about her. It was brilliant. Without further questioning, she leaned up again and brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth, and he turned his head to capture her lips in another slow, searing kiss that left both of them inhaling sharply when they finally broke away.  
  
It was then that Harry lost complete control of his brain.  
  
Without another hesitation, Gia gathered the bottom of his t-shirt in her fists and pulled it over his head, dropping it to the ground beside them. Harry stared at her, and she looked up with slightly twinkling eyes, a giggle escaping her lips and causing Harry to become suddenly incredibly self-conscious.  
  
"What?" he asked, searching her eyes with his own.  
  
She laughed lightly and shook her head, bringing a hand up and smoothing down some of his raven locks. "Your hair's a mess," she giggled.  
  
Harry relaxed and sent her a pointed look. "Oh, there's a surprise," he said sarcastically. Then he rolled his eyes slightly and moved one hand from her hip to her own hair, carelessly tugging on a curl, her hair still wild from sleep. "Yours isn't so perfect right now, either."  
  
Gia laughed again and didn't remove her hand from his thick hair. She pressed her lips back to his, kissing him for a long moment before moving her hand tighter around the back of his head and kissing the bottom of his chin and then his neck. He wanted to kiss her back, but the way they were positioned made it difficult, so he settled for letting one arm run aimlessly up and down her bare arm while the other stayed pressed to the center of her back. As she ran her hot mouth over his shoulder, he suddenly realized what was actually happening.  
  
Harry wasn't sure just how much experience Gia had in certain areas, but he was fairly certain and willing to bet his entire fortune that it was more than he had. Thoughts flooded his mind at once. He'd only met her a few weeks ago. But he trusted her and liked her more than he could ever remember liking a girl. She obviously knew what she was doing. Well, he needed someone to teach him, didn't he? They were only fifteen. They were fifteen years old and couldn't help it. He wasn't sure they should go on. Her hand slid slowly down his stomach, and, oh, yes, he was sure...  
  
It was as if every thought he had turning him off of the idea of continuing was immediately countered with a good reason why they should keep going. His mind was a ramble of incoherent reasons, both for the pros and the cons, and he couldn't sort them out at all. He needed to be logical; he needed to think logically like...  
  
What was her name?  
  
He found that something as simple as remembering his female best friend's name was completely too much of a task for his brain to handle at the moment. A second later, he couldn't even remember why he needed to think of her name. The only name he could think of was Gia because it happened to slip from his lips without his knowledge when he felt the outside of her fingers run slowly and deliberately from their place in his hair down his spine to the base of his spine.  
  
She stopped for a moment at the sound of her name and looked up at him. "It's okay," she whispered as if she could read all of his thoughts. Pushing her other arm around his waist as well, she stepped closer to him and stood in a way that made listening to her a very difficult task. "We can stop," she whispered again, dipping her head to place a feather-light kiss against his upper chest. She continued to plant those same tiny kisses in an upward trail under his chin, across his jaw, and finally to his lips, which she whispered against. "If you want to."  
  
By this time, he couldn't imagine why anyone would ever want to stop, and he managed a slight shake of the head as she kissed him again, finally allowing him to kiss her back. All of the incoherent thoughts were completely absent as he carefully explored her mouth with his tongue; in fact, the only thing he could think of at all was how he didn't want to be standing anymore. It seemed to be getting too difficult of a task.  
  
Once again, as if she could read his mind, Gia's hand went back to his neck and she guided him backwards toward the bed in the middle of her room, never once breaking the kiss. They parted from each other slightly when their backwards movement was halted by her knees knocking into the side of her bed. Harry stared at her, trying desperately to take all of her in at once. She was so bloody gorgeous; it was impossible.  
  
The tip of Gia's tongue darted out and quickly moistened her pink lips. Without a word, she placed both hands on either side of his neck and kissed him again, bringing him down over her as she first sat and then scooted back to lay on the bed. Before Harry could even comprehend the switch of gravity, he found himself lying above her and looking down into her eyes, which were such a different green from his own- such a soft and gentle green. He wondered briefly if he was crushing her and pushed himself up slightly. She smiled as he did so and ran a hand lightly across his lips.  
  
"We can stop whenever you want to," she whispered, her cheeks flushed slightly.  
  
And they did stop.  
  
Several long minutes of kissing and soft touching later, Harry pulled away, knowing that he wouldn't be able to get up the strength to do so in just a few more moments. He wanted her desperately, in ways he'd never imagined he would feel on this short Christmas holiday. But he also wanted her to know that it wasn't just about that. He liked her for so many reasons other than the fact that she didn't stop his hand as it carefully explored the upper recesses of her body over the thin material of her pajama shirt. He liked her because she was so much more than physically beautiful.  
  
It was almost frightening just how much he liked her.  
  
They were both breathless when he rolled away, telling her that he needed to stop. "I'm sorry," he mumbled quietly. "You probably think I'm stupid." He was definitely beginning to think of himself as stupid; he'd just stopped when... Was nothing at all normal about him?  
  
He heard her sigh very quietly beside him and watched as she rolled onto her side and draped a pale arm across his still bare chest. "No, I don't," she said quietly, looking up to smile softly with her eyes. "I think you're perfect."  
  
Harry kissed her cheek gently and took her hand into his own, watching as she grinned and tucked her head deeper into his arms. In an almost absent voice, she said, "I wonder if I asked my dad... I wonder if he'd let me go to boarding school."  
  
Harry's eyes immediately grew to twice their previous size as she kissed his shoulder once more and settled into him, closing her eyes, and, seemingly on instant, falling asleep.  
  
He watched for a long moment, a million and one thoughts once again flooding his brain. She wanted to transfer to his school... This was beyond possible for obvious reasons, but that wasn't the main problem with what she'd just said. Her words had made him fully realize for the first time that he was leaving. In just five days, he would be back at Hogwarts. And he didn't know when he'd see her again. How was he expected to do that? He could barely stand the times that they were apart now; how was he going to survive when he didn't even know the next time he'd get to be with her? And how were they even going to communicate? Muggle post didn't run at Hogwarts, and even it did, it wouldn't have mattered because she thought he went to St. Mary's. And there certainly weren't any telephones at Hogwarts; he could call her from Hogsmeade, he supposed, but how was he supposed to explain that the only communication they could share was a brief telephone conversation the third Saturday of each month?  
  
He'd spent a few brief weeks experiencing the most exhilarating things he'd ever felt, and it was all about to be over.  
  
Everything about Gia was brilliant, and he didn't want to leave her. He was just getting to know her. It wasn't fair.  
  
All of these thoughts and more fluttered through his brain as he drifted into his own sleep. They were all pushed aside for one single question, though. A question that frightened Harry far worse than Voldemort ever had.  
  
Was it possible to fall in love when you were just fifteen?  
  
*******************  
  
Next up, Ron and Hermione's New Year's Eve!  
  
And also, there has been a slight controversy in some of the recent reviews of that deal with Chapter 24. I know that was posted awhile back, but someone has just recently read it and taken offense to it. That was the chapter where I dealt with the issue of Ron and Hermione discussing the existence of God. Those opinions are simply that- opinions. They were meant in no way to offend anyone or sway anyone's beliefs. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, of course, and I am extremely religiously tolerant. It was never my intent to try and push my views on other people, so if it came across that way, then I'm sorry.  
  
With that said... I hope you liked this chapter! Sorry for the delay! 


	47. Waiting on Midnight

A/N: Thanks to everyone who leaves feedback! It means the world!  
  
Disclaimer: They're not mine!  
  
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"Midnight is never going to get here." Ron sighed dejectedly as he peered into the Granger's refrigerator and rolled his eyes. "And I'm bloody going to starve to death waiting for it."  
  
Hermione glared sharply at the back of his head before shoving him out of the way. "Don't swear," she said pointedly, reaching into the refrigerator for a bottle of apple juice. "And there's plenty of food."  
  
Ron gave her his own sharp look before shoving her right back and taking back possession of his spot in front of the open door. He looked in at the 'food' and rolled his eyes again. "You, shut up because you swear all the time now," he said briskly. She mumbled something about bad influences and spending too much time with foul-mouthed boys. Ron laughed loudly but went right on. "And this is not food, Hermione. This is..." He searched for the right words. "This is a rabbit's grocery store."  
  
Hermione gave a sound that was a mix somewhere between a snort, a hiccup, and a giggle. Ron turned his head and peered at her on instant, raising his eyebrows in question.  
  
"What the hell was that?"  
  
She put a hand to her mouth, her cheeks flushed, and she gave another giggle. "I don't know."  
  
He grinned. "Do it again. It's cute."  
  
Hermione turned pink and dropped her hand. "Shut up," she said importantly. "And shut the door; you're wasting electricity."  
  
Ron turned back to the fridge. "I haven't gotten anything yet."  
  
"Then get something," she said briskly.  
  
Ron stared at the shelves again and shook his head in slight disbelief. He hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said that the inside of her family's refrigerator looked like a rabbit's grocery store. The shelves were filled with raw vegetables and all sorts of healthy looking things that didn't look appetizing in the least. The closest things he could find to something that could pass for halfway decent were a few cartons of fat- free, sugar-free yogurt. It wasn't exactly his idea of a great snack, but it was the best he had, so he grabbed a raspberry flavored yogurt and shut the door.  
  
"You know what?" he asked seriously as he pilled the lid off and fumbled into a drawer for a spoon. "I always figured Harry was so skinny because his cousin always ate all the food in the house. But I never could figure out why you were so thin." He glanced briefly in the direction of the now closed refrigerator. "Now I know why. You've been suffering from malnutrition all your life. Your parents have been starving you."  
  
Somehow, Hermione managed to make the same snorty, hiccuppy, giggly sound that she'd made a minute earlier. Her hand immediately flew to her mouth again in shock, and she and Ron both erupted in a delayed laughter.  
  
"How do you do that?" Ron asked through laughter.  
  
Hermione was now beet red, and she shrugged. "I don't know."  
  
Ron's eyes widened dramatically, and he held a hand to his heart in mock surprise. "Oh, my God. Say that again."  
  
Hermione raised an eyebrow. "What?"  
  
"Did you just say, 'I don't know'?" He said the final three words slowly, enunciating them each clearly. "I need something to write with- this could be a way for me to get something into Hogwarts, A History! Hermione Granger doesn't know..."  
  
Hermione glared at him before pushing him roughly and telling him to shut up for what seemed like the thousandth time that evening. "I don't really like you sometimes," she said stubbornly, turning her back on him and crossing her arms over her chest.  
  
Ron snickered. But he decided to play along. "Oh, come on, Hermione," he said coaxingly. "I'll give you some of my yogurt if you say you'll still be my friend..." He waved the spoon around her shoulder in temptation.  
  
She pushed his hand away and turned back around. "First of all, my parents bought that yogurt," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder with a sling of the head. "And second of all, I don't want any of it."  
  
Ron smirked. "Okay, I'll give you some of your parents' yogurt, then..." He waved the spoonful of pink in front of her again. "Mmm... It's good, Hermione..."  
  
She pursed her lips and reached for the container, which she raised to her eyes and read from the label. "It has no sugar. And no fat. Surely, you didn't just say it was good."  
  
"I meant that you would like it," he said, grinning. "It has all the ingredients that you love in food. Bland, blander, and blandest."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You are such a prat."  
  
Ron laughed out loud at this and held the spoon out to her for a final time. "Last chance, 'Mione."  
  
She glared at him.  
  
Ron shrugged. "Oh, well. You had your opportunity," he said airily. And with that, he simply proceeded to shove the spoon at her face, getting pink yogurt all over her pursed lips and the tip of her nose and earning a rather indignant gasp from her.  
  
"Ugh! You're so... so..." She broke off and sent him another furious glare.  
  
"So what?" he prompted between laughing at her. "So brilliant? So handsome? So wonderful? So perfect?" He laughed again. "Shall I go on?"  
  
"You better go on somewhere," she said warningly. "Before I murder you."  
  
Ron laughed and watched as she raised a hand to her mouth to wipe it clean. Her forefinger caught a bit of the yogurt on her lower lip, and she quickly stuck it into her mouth to taste it.  
  
"Hmm," she mumbled absently. "That's actually not half bad."  
  
Ron watched even more closely as the tip of her tongue darted out and licked at some more of the bottom lip. He wasn't laughing anymore.  
  
He was mesmerized.  
  
"I want to taste it," he said quietly. And before either of them could comprehend what he was about to do, he'd done just that. Closing the short little distance that stood between them, Ron placed his hands on her hips and bent down to lick lightly at her upper lip for just a second before catching her up in a kiss that was far sweeter than the sugar-free yogurt they were both tasting on their tongues. He marveled slightly at how easy it was just to kiss her.  
  
He really marveled at how she never pulled away.  
  
It was such an odd but wonderful feeling, kissing Hermione. He couldn't quite get used to the fact that he was allowed to do it. Or that she seemed to enjoy it just as much as he did. It had been just a week since they'd shared their first kiss on Christmas, but they'd known each other for so long, knew each other so well, that it didn't matter how much or how little experience was shared between them. They were comfortable with each other and comfortable with the pace that things were moving.  
  
Of course, this didn't mean that Ron didn't think about moving a little more quickly. He'd been wanting to kiss her subconsciously for four years now- suppressed memories of how badly he'd wanted to try the 'Sleeping Beauty/Snow White' wake-up technique on a twelve year old Petrified Hermione had somehow snuck their way back into his mind recently. And now that he'd finally had the chance to kiss her, now that he knew how soft her lips were and how gently and shyly she used her tongue to explore his own, he wanted to hold her and give her a proper kiss. A real kiss.  
  
He wanted to kiss her the way that Seamus kissed Lavender and the way Harry kissed Gia.  
  
The sweet, innocent, exploration was nice. He liked it- very much so, in fact. But he definitely wouldn't have protested if she suddenly wanted to, oh, say snog for a bit.  
  
Or awhile.  
  
Or a long time.  
  
He pushed these thoughts out of his head, though, as he pulled away from the kiss and grinned at her. Her lips were now clean of all remnants of the snack, and she smiled back at him in a way that clearly let him know she had forgotten that she was supposed to be angry at him.  
  
She was definitely very cute.  
  
And she had no bloody clue.  
  
There was the slightest trace of yogurt still on her nose, and Ron raised his eyebrows just slightly as he reached out a single finger and wiped it away. "All clean," he announced, pointing the finger as proof.  
  
Hermione raised her own eyebrows just as slightly and leaned forward just enough to place her lips over the last bit of raspberry and suck it gently from the tip of his fingertip.  
  
This simple and seemingly uneventful act stirred something horribly hormonal in Ron, and he couldn't help the way his brain flashed the fact that her parents were gone. For the whole night. It seemed as if a neon sign was blazing in his brain.  
  
And he wasn't sure that this was a good thing.  
  
But if opportunity was going to present itself... Well, this was pretty much as open as it got. Mr. and Mrs. Granger were out until sometime the next day. Harry had run off to Gia's to do God only knows what since her parents were out of town, too. So, that just left him and Hermione. Alone. Together.  
  
Bless New Year's Eve parties.  
  
Bless Gia Martin.  
  
Really bless Gia Martin. If it weren't for her, he might not have gotten the chance to kiss Hermione at all. If she hadn't somehow captured Harry under some completely unmagical spell, there might have been no time for such blatantly obvious and open opportunities.  
  
Bless her, bless her, bless her.  
  
If he hadn't fallen so hard for Hermione already, he might have claimed to love the curly little blonde headed Muggle.  
  
"What time is it?" Hermione asked, suddenly bringing him out of his momentary reverie of blessing his best friend's new 'acquaintance.'  
  
He glanced at his watch. "9:46."  
  
She groaned loudly. "You're right. Midnight is never going to get here!"  
  
Ron could hardly believe his luck; this was just too good. Feigning another look of shock, he said, "First 'I don't know...' and then..." he shook his head slightly in disbelief. "And then... 'You're right...' Who are you and what have you done with Hermione?"  
  
Hermione glared sharply at him before moving to slug him. He caught her wrist, though, and pulled her toward him, the fingers of his other hand wriggling dangerously close to her belly in a threat of tickling. She yelped and yanked free of his grasp, not even looking back as she shot out of the room. He was right behind her, chasing her into the sitting room and watching as she leapt over the back of the couch and used it as a shield between them.  
  
He stopped and grinned at her. "Hey, that was pretty impressive," he said honestly. "I didn't know you could jump like that."  
  
She smirked triumphantly. "There's lots of things you don't know about me."  
  
"I know enough," he replied mischievously. "I know that you can recite every textbook that we've ever had by heart. I know that you hate pickles and that black olives make you sick. Hmm..." He pretended to think for a moment of other things that he knew about her. "I know that you're allergic to lamb's wool. I know that your favorite subject is Arithmancy and your least favorite subject is or rather was Divination. I know that your main goals in life, as of this moment, are to get the highest number of O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s in the history of Hogwarts, to free all the world's house-elves, and to graduate valedictorian of our class. Beyond that, you have no clue what you want to do. I know that yellow is your favorite color and that although you pretend to detest the color pink, you really have a soft spot for it. I know that you secretly kept all of Lockhart's books and that silly Get Well card he sent you, though I've yet to figure out where you've hidden all of that stuff." He grinned widely. "I know that you used to be a beautiful little ballerina and that, though you claim to have hated ever second of it, you will always be that precious little dancer at heart." He snickered and finished with one final bit of knowledge. "And I know that even though you say you don't remember how to play the piano, that you at least remember nine Christmas carols."  
  
Hermione tried to look stern, but she ended up giggling despite herself. "Well, you do know a bit, don't you?"  
  
Ron nodded seriously. "Yes. And in addition to all that, I know your full name, your parents' names, where you grew up, what school you go to, who your best friends are, your pets' names, and your birth date. What else do I need to know?"  
  
She smiled back at him, obviously unable to pretend that she wasn't amused. "I can't think of anything else of importance," she said, playing along with a twinkle in her eyes. "But I know a bit about you, too."  
  
"Oh, really?" Ron raised his eyebrows at her in question.  
  
She smirked and nodded. "I know your favorite food is treacle tart and that you secretly enjoy the way Hagrid prepares it- all hard and sticky. I know that you support a hopeless Quidditch team but that you will never stray from being their hugest fan. I know that your heart was broken when you were five and your poor pet Puffeskin, Bogey- how fitting," she rolled her eyes slightly, "was used as a cruel double for a Bludger. I know that you cheated on our first ever Transfiguration exam because I watched you and came horribly close to telling on you. I know that you broke my self- inking quill when we were twelve even though you wouldn't admit to it. I know that the smell of rosemary makes you sneeze." She grinned wickedly on her short, dramatic pause. "And I know that you played with Barbie dolls when you were younger."  
  
Ron was impressed, though not entirely at ease that she knew it had been him that had broken her brand new quill on the first day of Christmas holiday their second year. "Well, you know your own little bit, don't you?"  
  
She nodded. "Yes. And, in addition to all of those things," she mocked his words, "I know several others. I know your full name, I know your parents' names, where you grew up, the name of every pet you've ever owned, I know where you go to school and who your best friends are, I know your birthday, and I know the full names of every single one of your siblings."  
  
He looked up at her last claim and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Prove it," he insisted stubbornly.  
  
"Prove what?"  
  
"That you know all my siblings' full names." Ron wasn't even sure that he could name them all off, and he was willing to bet that Hermione was simply saying something to make her feel knowledgeable. Well, he'd called her bluff.  
  
Surprisingly, though, Hermione nodded slightly and drew in a deep breath. "William Arthur Weasley," she stared out slowly. "Charles Anthony Weasley, Percival Christopher Weasley, Frederick Christian Weasley, George Andrew Weasley..." She paused dramatically for a moment and finally finished with, "And Virginia Charlotte Weasley! Ha! I told you!"  
  
Ron stood in half-shock that she actually really did know all his siblings' names. "How do you remember all that?" he asked in awe.  
  
She shrugged. "My memory is good," she said airily.  
  
"Well, you do have all one-thousand, four-hundred, and sixty-two pages of Hogwarts, A History memorized..." he teased.  
  
Hermione's face brightened, though, and she looked at him strangely. "You know how many pages are in Hogwarts, A History?"  
  
He laughed at her expression. "Yep. I even read a bit of the first chapter one night when I couldn't sleep."  
  
Hermione giggled. "Well, I am quite impressed."  
  
Smirking, Ron shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I guess we know each other pretty well, huh?"  
  
She shrugged, too. "Yeah, guess we do."  
  
"I can jump the sofa, too, you know?" he asked and did just that before she had time to react. They were standing towards each other now, and Ron thought fleetingly about how beautiful she was just dressed in a faded pair of jeans and the sweater his mum had knitted for her. And her hair was curly- it looked amazing.  
  
"Let's do something," she announced out of nowhere.  
  
Ron could think of several things he would like to do, but he wasn't quite sure that Hermione would agree to too many of them, and the ones she might have considered, he was too nervous to suggest. "Chess?" he offered casually.  
  
Hermione's eyes narrowed on instant. "I do not want to play chess," she said haughtily.  
  
"Why not?" he asked innocently; he loved to watch her get all upset about her rather lacking chess-skills. It never failed to amuse him.  
  
"Because I don't feel like getting my ego squashed," she said pointedly.  
  
Ron smirked. "Why, my ego usually feels quite wonderful after a game against you."  
  
She glared at him. "I can't imagine why," she said droningly.  
  
He laughed and gave in. "Okay, so what do you want to do?" He prayed that she would suggest even the most innocent of his original thoughts.  
  
She didn't. "Let's gossip."  
  
He looked at her, wondering what in the world she was on about. "Gossip?!"  
  
She sat down on the sofa and nodded. "Yes. We never gossip- it will be fun."  
  
Okay... He wasn't sure where she was coming from with this, but he was rather amused at the change about. Usually, Hermione chided people for doing such silly things as spreading rumors. Sitting down beside her, he shrugged. "Okay, you go first."  
  
"Why do I have to go first?"  
  
"Because you live with Parvati and Lavender," he said pointedly. "Don't tell me you don't know tons of good gossip."  
  
She smiled, her top row of perfect teeth jutting out of her lower lip just slightly. "Okay. Did you hear about Lisa Turpin and Johnson McClellan?"  
  
Of course he'd heard about them. The whole school knew that Professor Flitwick had caught them coming back into the Ravenclaw Common Room at five o'clock in the morning after staying gone all night. "Hermione, that's old news," he said dejectedly.  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Well, did you know that they broke up the next night?"  
  
"How do you know?" From what he'd heard, they weren't letting Flitwick's knowledge of their relationship stop them from continuing to take nightly strolls together. In fact, he'd heard that they'd spent the whole night in the Dungeons the night before Christmas break.  
  
"Because Padma told Parvati. Lisa and Padma are really close, remember?"  
  
Ron had no idea who Padma was or was not close to. All he knew about Padma was that she had dumped him in lieu of a Beaubaton's boy the night of the Yule Ball. He shrugged anyway, though, and waited for her to go on.  
  
"Well, apparently, Johnson asked Mallory Lenoir to meet him by Greenhouse Two that night, and Mallory told him off and then went and told Lisa. And Lisa broke up with him, of course, and now she's sort of dating Ryan Cremmings from Hufflepuff."  
  
"What do you mean 'sort of' dating?"  
  
"Well, I think they quite enjoy each other's tonsils," she said with a slight giggle. "But I don't think it goes much further."  
  
Ron laughed, more at the giggle she'd just given than at the news. "Well, speaking of Padma... Do you want to know what Dean said about her?"  
  
Hermione nodded.  
  
Ron snickered and went on. "He said that she and Parvati are completely identical- down to a small triangle of freckles on the lower right hand part of their stomach."  
  
Hermione pursed her lips. "He's lying."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"Because how would he know anything like that about Parvati?"  
  
Ron just raised his eyebrows.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "No. Parvati hasn't... done that... with anyone. Especially not her sister's boyfriend." She turned a slight shade of red at the mention of 'that.'  
  
Ron was quite intrigued. So, the girls discussed 'that.' Hmm... There was an interesting sentiment.  
  
"And plus," she went on, "Parvati doesn't even have any freckles on her stomach."  
  
Now, Ron was very intrigued. Not able to hide the look on his face, he once again said, "How do you know?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I've lived with her for five years. I've seen her stomach plenty of times."  
  
"You've seen her naked?!" Ron could barely believe how quickly several images entered his mind.  
  
Apparently, Hermione was not the least bit amused, and she looked at him with a single cocked eyebrow that let him know in no uncertain terms that she was definitely not even commenting on the wanderings of his immature boy mind.  
  
But Ron couldn't help it. Sure, he and his roommates had changed hundreds of times in front of each other, so he wasn't quite sure why it surprised him to know that the girls did. But it was different. With the boys, it was like... Neville and Dean and Seamus and Harry. It definitely wasn't Parvati, Lavender, and Hermione. Now, there was something to think about! He suddenly realized a few wonderful new uses of the Invisibility Cloak...  
  
"Anyway," she went on haughtily. "Dean is lying. And I'm going to tell Parvati he said that."  
  
This suddenly killed the rather entertaining picture in his mind. "What?! You can't tell Parvati!"  
  
"Why shouldn't I?"  
  
"Why do you even care?"  
  
"Because she's my friend."  
  
"Well, Dean's my friend."  
  
"Well, he's a liar." She crossed her arms and stared at him, as if daring him to say something else.  
  
Ron thought for a counter to that but only came up with, "I thought you didn't even like Parvati."  
  
She looked strangely offended. "I have never said I didn't like her. I hate when people assume stuff."  
  
"Well, you don't hang out with her," he said in his own defense.  
  
"You have no idea what I do when you're not around. I've shared a room with her since I was ten years old; I'm pretty sure we've hung out enough."  
  
Ron wasn't quite sure how this had suddenly turned into an argument. And maybe it wasn't a full-blown argument yet, but he'd had plenty of experience with full-blown arguments against Hermione and he could spot the warning signs rather quickly. He didn't want to fight with her- not when they had to spend the entire night alone together.  
  
Especially not when they were getting to spend the night alone...  
  
"Okay, sorry," he said quickly, not quite sure what he was apologizing for and praying that she wouldn't ask him what he was sorry about. "Just please don't tell Parvati because then Dean will know I told and he'll get mad at me."  
  
Hermione's face softened just a bit, but she didn't back down. "Well, he shouldn't say stuff like that about her. He's never done anything like that with her, and I'm willing to bet he hasn't done anything like that with Padma, either. Or else I would have heard about it."  
  
Ron nodded. "Okay, so what if I tell him to shut up next time he mentions it? Will you just not tell Parvati? Please?"  
  
She sighed but finally gave in. "Okay, fine. But if he ever says anything else, I'm telling her."  
  
"Fair enough," Ron said, knowing fully-well that if Dean ever said anything else about it, Hermione would most definitely not be finding out. "So," he added in an attempt to get off the subject, "do you know any other good things?"  
  
She smiled rather devilishly and nodded. "Yeah..."  
  
"Well?" he prodded, his curiosity piqued.  
  
"Malfoy hooked up with Bridget Vemmingmore."  
  
"What?!" Ron looked at her in disbelief. "She's a Seventh Year!"  
  
Hermione gave a full-blown smile and tossed her hair away from her face. "I know! And," she went on coaxingly, "they got caught!"  
  
Ron felt like Christmas had come early. "By who?!"  
  
Hermione giggled and took a second. "By Professor McGonagall."  
  
"You are shitting me!" he exclaimed giggly. "When?! Where were they?!"  
  
"They were in her classroom! And she walked in to get some papers and saw them. It was two nights before we left."  
  
"Why the hell haven't you told me this before now?!"  
  
"Because talking about people isn't nice," she said ironically.  
  
Ron shook his head in confusion. "It's Malfoy!"  
  
She snickered. "I know. That's why I don't feel bad."  
  
Ron still couldn't believe it. "You're seriously telling the truth?"  
  
"Yes," she said briskly. "That's why Malfoy fell asleep in Potions on the last day- McGonagall had them scrubbing her classroom all night long!"  
  
Ron snorted. This was simply too good to be true... "Well, why didn't it get around the school?"  
  
"Because Malfoy apparently didn't tell a soul. He's probably scared of his father or something, I don't know," she shrugged. "And Bridget only told her best friend, Emily Harrison, because she was probably embarrassed that Malfoy's only fifteen."  
  
"Well, how did you find out?"  
  
"Because she told her in the fourth floor girls' toilets. And Lavender happened to be in one of the stalls..."  
  
"I can't believe this!" Ron couldn't even believe how happy he felt hearing about Malfoy's misfortune. "So, Lavender just told you and Parvati?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yes. But we're going to start letting it slip after Christmas, so feel free to accidentally drop it to Harry and Seamus and Dean and Neville and anyone else you know." Her eyes twinkled slightly. "Actually, I don't think it would be too much of a pity if Fred and George found out..."  
  
Ron laughed out loud. "Well, I'm sure they'll get the news somehow."  
  
She smiled. "What time is it?"  
  
Ron checked his watch again and frowned. "10:48. We still have over an hour."  
  
"Let's play Slap," she suggested brightly.  
  
"What, the card game?"  
  
"No, the hand game."  
  
Ron paused for a moment and thought about that sentence. Playing hand games with Hermione could certainly be entertaining...  
  
"You know," she went on, obviously not picking up on his mental pictures, "the game where you put your hands on top of each other and try to slap the other person's hands."  
  
Ron suddenly realized what she was talking about. "Oh, yeah."  
  
Hermione held her hands out, palm up. "I get to go first because I'm younger," she said with a grin.  
  
Ron eyed her, strangely reminded of Ginny, and placed his own hands on top of hers. They situated themselves Indian-style and facing towards each other on the couch. Ron watched Hermione's face as she studied his hands for a long moment, then she looked up and smiled at him. He smiled back; he couldn't help it. Of course, she chose the exact moment that he grinned to bring her left hand up and across to slap his right.  
  
"Ha!" she cried triumphantly. "I get a point."  
  
Ron stared down at their hands for a moment and then looked back up at her grumpily. "It'll be the last one," he said meaningfully, taking the opportunity to place his hands underneath her own for his turn.  
  
He studied them for a minute. Her hands were tiny, especially compared to his own large ones. Looking back up, he kept eye-contact with her for a long moment before pouncing and flipping both of his hands over to hit hers.  
  
She looked quite shocked at not being able to predict his action and stared at her hands in disbelief.  
  
"Two points!" he exclaimed proudly. "I'm winning."  
  
She glared at him and promptly switched their positions. Without even hesitating, she suddenly wrapped her fingers around one of his hands and used her other to smack it before he could pull away.  
  
"Now, we're tied," she said smoothly.  
  
"That's not fair!" he protested at once. "You can't cheat!"  
  
"Why not?" she questioned airily. "You try to cheat off of me all the time."  
  
"That's on schoolwork," he said with a roll of the eyes. "This is something important!"  
  
Hermione snorted. "You whine too much."  
  
Offended at having been called a whiner, Ron shut his mouth immediately. Instead, he grudgingly held his hands roughly out and waited for her to place hers on top of his. When she did, he proceeded to grab onto both of them from underneath.  
  
Rolling her eyes, Hermione said, "There's no way you can get any points if you don't have a free hand to do the slapping."  
  
However, Ron wasn't really too worried about winning points anymore. His mind was on a different type of scoring, and his eyes were on a very full pair of cherry-red lips.  
  
"I don't care," he mumbled, suddenly yanking her forward and pressing his lips to hers before she could protest. He didn't care about the stupid game. He was kissing her. He'd been waiting to kiss her. And she was beautiful.  
  
And, best of all, she was kissing him back.  
  
Ron could hardly think when she took advantage of their still joined hands and pulled hers back, pulling his whole body with them. She was leaned against the side of the couch, and he was sprawled on top of her all in one movement. He couldn't even comprehend how they'd gotten there until a second later when Hermione pulled out of the kiss and turned her head.  
  
"Lean up," she whispered in a hoarse voice that sounded nothing at all like she normally did. "This hurts." Ron silently cursed any and everything that he could think of but leaned up nonetheless. He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to sit up with him and go back to 'normal,' but she didn't. Instead, he watched as a still cross-legged Hermione, flattened one leg out against the cushion and then swung her other off the side of the sofa. He himself was on his knees and watched her curiously, still expecting her to sit up, but rather than do that, she only leaned up far enough to grasp his forearms and pull him towards her, bringing them both back to a reclining position. "Much better," she whispered in that same hoarse voice before putting a hand behind his head and kissing him again.  
  
Ron barely had time to send a mental retraction of his words to all those that he'd just cursed seconds before.  
  
He was fascinated by a million things all at once. He marveled at the way he wasn't crushing her, despite the difference in their sizes. He couldn't believe how incredibly soft her cheek was against his hand. He wondered how in the world he'd gone five whole years and never done this with her before. And he could hardly comprehend the fact that she was actually letting him lie on top of her and kiss her so deeply.  
  
It was mad.  
  
And he loved it.  
  
Pulling up from the kiss to allow them both the opportunity to breathe for a second, he grinned briefly, noticing the way the brown in her eyes seemed to glisten with highlights in the same subtle way that her hair did in the right light. God, how in the world did she get so pretty?  
  
"Gorgeous," he mumbled quietly next to her ear, not really caring that his mouth was working without the consent of his mind. At least it was being honest. "Bloody gorgeous."  
  
Hermione muttered something incomprehensible, but he knew for sure that it wasn't a chiding for his use of language. He watched as her eyes fluttered shut and then his own eyes swept over the area of skin right below the ear he was whispering in. Not able to stand it any longer, he pressed his lips lightly to her neck. Then, encouraged by the soft little humming sound that he heard coming from somewhere deep inside of her throat, he proceeded to lift the skin between his lips and gently suck on it. Wondering briefly if he could leave a mark, he continued, vaguely thinking but not really caring that her parents would likely see it. All he cared about at the moment was her; actually, he couldn't even comprehend that anything or anyone else even existed.  
  
She moved just a tiny bit underneath him and turned her head to draw his lips away from her neck and back to her own, and Ron felt himself react almost violently. He kissed her deeply; it was harder and rougher than any of the other kisses they'd shared, but she didn't seem to mind. Instead, he felt her hands wander from the back of his head down his back. Her fingernails barely grazed his spine, but he could feel everywhere she touched him perfectly; it was as if his senses were heightened even through the thick jumper he wore. Letting one of his own hands wander lazily down the side of her arm, he used his other to finger the area of her neck, noticing all too well the way her head seemed to move on instinct to the wanderings of his fingertips.  
  
All too soon, the need for oxygen set in again, and they pulled apart. However, this time, Hermione lifted her head just slightly and kissed his chin, letting her lips move aimlessly down his jaw line as he turned his head to accommodate her movements. When she hit a rather sensitive patch of skin just below his own ear, he couldn't even think straight. He managed to choke out a strangled, "Hermione..." that sounded nothing at all like him. But he didn't care; all he knew was that nothing had ever sounded as perfect as her name did at that moment.  
  
Apparently, she thought so, too.  
  
With what could only be considered a whimper, she kissed him again- a real kiss that left him breathless and wondering how he'd gone for so long without kissing her. Perfect, she was perfect.  
  
Life was perfect.  
  
After several more minutes, though, she ended it, pulling away from a rather heated kiss and breathing heavily for several seconds.  
  
"Okay, we need to stop," she said breathlessly, shaking her head slightly as if attempting to make her sudden ceasing make better sense.  
  
It didn't make sense to Ron at all. If he had his way, they'd never move from where they were right now. He could spend forever kissing her, and he wanted to let his hands engage in an exploration of areas other than her arms and her face.  
  
He didn't want to stop.  
  
But when he kissed the corner of her mouth, she didn't respond. Instead, she turned her head to the side and wiggled a bit underneath him. Ron dropped his face to the cushion of the couch beside her head and squeezed his eyes shut as she pushed as his shoulders and said, "Come on, Ron. Get off."  
  
He literally had to bite his tongue to keep from saying that he was incredibly close to doing just that. He somehow didn't think that she would appreciate a comment like that at all- even if it was all her fault. Grinding his back teeth into each other, he sighed loudly as he sat up. Hermione pulled herself into a sitting position, too, and they stared at each other for several moments.  
  
Did she have any idea at all how hard it was for him to stop? It was literally hurt, and he somehow figured that she had no clue that he was actually in pain. But he'd wanted her for a long time, whether he'd admitted it to himself or not. He'd wanted her for a long time, and now that he had her, he wasn't about to do anything to screw it up. No matter how badly he wanted to keep going.  
  
He'd wait forever if that's what it took.  
  
Hermione drew in a rather long and staggering breath before finally speaking. "What time is it?"  
  
Ron looked down and glanced at his watch. He looked back up, offering her a grin to let her know that things were fine. "11:59."  
  
She smiled back. "It's almost midnight."  
  
And as the clock struck twelve, she leaned over and gave him a slow, sweet kiss that he cherished.  
  
When she pulled back and smiled shyly at him, blushing a slight pink, he realized that all the waiting they'd done on midnight had been well-worth it.  
  
He realized something else, too.  
  
There were other things worth waiting on. And she was one of them.  
  
**************************  
  
Comments are adored!!! 


	48. Author's Note

Hi, everyone!  
  
No, this is not a new chapter; it's just a quick little note to let you all know that one of my readers, Larissa, has created a Yahoo! group for "When Things Start to Change." You can join it and post messages about the story, submit Fanart (Please!), write your own alternative versions of the chapters or write missing chapters that you think would have been profitable to the storyline, or join in group chats about it. It's new, so there's not much there yet, but if you all join, then it will certainly get more submissions. I've also decided to drop little outtakes in here and there (stuff that I know happened but wasn't exactly a necessary part of the story. Please join it!  
  
The URL is http://groups.yahoo.com/group/when_things_change  
  
Also, I'd like to add that I'm going through an extremely busy time in my life right now. I'm trying to balance work and finishing up the semester's work with studying for finals and several doctor's appointments. I will get another chapter out before the end of week, but I can't promise that it won't be closer to the second half of the week.  
  
Once again, thank you all for taking the time to read my story and especially thanks to all of those who leave feedback on a regular basis. It means everything to me! 


	49. What the Truth Changes

A/N: Thanks for all the feedback!  
  
Disclaimer: Still not mine!  
  
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The kitchen door opened, and Harry appeared looking very determined about something. Hermione looked at him curiously as he dropped his coat onto a chair and sat down at the breakfast table with her and Ron.  
  
"I'm telling Gia."  
  
Hermione glanced at Ron and saw that he seemed just as confused as she was. In a slightly confused voice, she asked him to be more specific. "You're telling Gia what?"  
  
Harry hesitated for only a second before shaking himself of whatever was holding him back and answering her. "I'm telling her everything. About Hogwarts and us and everything."  
  
Hermione was certain that she had heard him incorrectly. Out of stunned disbelief, she stared expectantly at him. "You're kidding, right?"  
  
"No." He certainly didn't seem to be joking. "I have to tell her. I can't take it anymore."  
  
"Isn't that illegal?" It was the first time Ron had spoken; he looked at Hermione for an answer.  
  
"It's not illegal," she said wistfully before turning her stare back to Harry and speaking very loudly, "but it's crazy!"  
  
"You don't understand how hard it is," he protested narrowly. "So, save the lecture."  
  
"Think about what you're saying, Harry!" she said immediately. "How do you think she's going to react to something like that?"  
  
"She'll be shocked, but if she's the person I think she is, she'll accept it." He seemed to be quite set in his way of thinking.  
  
However, Hermione wasn't planning on stopping until she got some sense knocked into him. "And if she's not the person you think she is? If she doesn't accept it?"  
  
"Well, at least I'll know then, won't I?"  
  
"Yes. And the entire city will know about me!"  
  
Harry glared slightly in her direction. "So, this is all about you, is it?"  
  
She returned the glare and spoke through tightened lips. "Well, no one knows you, do they? But everyone in this place knows my parents and me. Did you ever stop to think how this would affect us?"  
  
"She wouldn't tell anyone."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "You don't know that! She could tell anyone she wanted to, and then what? My own aunts and uncles don't even know about me!"  
  
"Hermione, this isn't about you!"  
  
"Yes, it is!" She was furious that he would even think about being so stupid. Didn't he realize what would happen if Gia told just one person?  
  
"She won't tell!"  
  
"She could!"  
  
"She wants to transfer to St. Mary's!"  
  
A silence filled the room immediately after this revelation. Ron, who had been watching the exchange between his best friends closely, was the first to speak.  
  
"Are you serious?" It wasn't a profound statement, but it somehow calmed the intensity in the room.  
  
Harry lowered his voice and turned away from Hermione to face the other boy. "Yes. She wants to ask her dad if he'll let her, and from what I hear about her father and stepmother, boarding school would be the ideal situation in their eyes. I really don't think they'd turn her down if she wanted to go."  
  
Hermione could hardly believe what she was hearing. She'd known that Harry getting involved with Gia was a bad idea; everything was about to backfire. "But..." She didn't know what was she was going to say.  
  
Harry turned back to her. "What else am I supposed to do, Hermione? If you have a better idea, I'm all ears."  
  
Hermione almost suggested that he break up with the Muggle; it would certainly be the easiest solution. Of course, she didn't dare open her mouth and actually say this because she somehow knew that Harry wouldn't forgive her for suggesting such a thing. He liked Gia, really liked her, and Hermione had no other choice but to shake her head gently indicating that she had no better idea.  
  
"She won't tell," Harry went on calmly. "I know she won't."  
  
Ron smiled slightly and attempted to bring some humor into the situation. "And if she does, we can always practice 'Obliviate' on her."  
  
The look Hermione gave him was unnamable.  
  
He simply shrugged in response.  
  
******************************  
  
Harry ran over and over the conversation in his head. He had his words down perfectly. The only problem was... he had no clue how Gia would react. He hoped, of course, that she would simply smile brightly and tell him that she was perfectly fine with the fact that he was a wizard and was attending a school that specialized in Potions instead of Chemistry. Of course, he also knew that hoping for this reaction was as illogical as hoping that Snape would wash the grease out of his hair.  
  
He just hoped she wouldn't hate him.  
  
As he watched her fuss with the loose threads on her comforter, he thought about the past three weeks. They'd been the best he'd had in a long time; for once, he was able to forget about Voldemort, forget about the damn prophecy, forget about everything. She just made him happy; he felt like he could actually be a kid with her- the kid he'd never gotten to be.  
  
"Gia, I have to tell you something." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.  
  
She looked up and furrowed her brow a bit at the seriousness on his face. "What's wrong?"  
  
He hesitated for another moment before swallowing his nervousness. "It's really important, and you just have to hear me out, okay?"  
  
Her face fell immediately. "If you tell me that you have a girlfriend at school, I swear I will not forgive you." She was being quite serious and staring at him meaningfully.  
  
A girlfriend? If only that was all it was... He shook his head to answer her question, though. "No! It's nothing like that. I swear."  
  
She knitted up her forehead and studied him. "Harry, what is it?"  
  
The nervousness was back, and he was suddenly hit with a million and one possible reactions to his news. None of them seemed too pleasant. However, he had no choice, so, scurrying up some of that Gryffindor courage, he cleared his throat and started the conversation in the same manner that he'd been going over in his head.  
  
"Do you remember when you said strange things used to happen whenever someone would pick on Hermione in primary school?"  
  
"Please don't tell me you're dating Hermione..." Her eyes proved that her suspicion was a legitimate one.  
  
The sound of that sentence was almost enough to make him sick, and he wrinkled up his nose in slight disgust. "Of course I'm not!"  
  
"Then what?" she asked anxiously.  
  
He tried again. "Do you remember when you told me that?"  
  
She still looked confused beyond help, but she nodded vaguely. "Yeah..."  
  
He nodded, too, and took in a deep breath. Knowing that the next words would change everything, he summoned all of his nerves and said, "Well, that's because Hermione's not normal." He swallowed once more. "She's a witch."  
  
Silence hung heavily in the air around them. The blank look on Gia's face stayed for several moments before slowly turning to a bewildered one. "A witch..." she repeated vaguely.  
  
Harry nodded again. "Right. She's a witch."  
  
"Is this supposed to be funny?" Gia asked with slightly narrowed eyes. "If it is, I don't get it."  
  
"It's not a joke," he said honestly. "I'm being serious."  
  
Gia was silent for another long moment before pursing her lips slightly. "A witch? As in broomsticks and cauldrons and cackling and warts? A witch?" She was speaking very calmly, as if she couldn't quite believe she was actually hearing this.  
  
Harry shrugged. "Well, Hermione hates flying, so she only gets on a broom when it's absolutely necessary. She does use cauldrons quite a bit, but she's usually partners with a really clumsy boy who always ends up melting theirs. And... I've never heard her cackle, but she does giggle sometimes, though not as much as most girls. And she did have a wart on her finger when we were twelve, but our nurse magicked it away."  
  
Gia raised two eyebrows in silent disbelief. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally closed her eyes, opened them, and shook her head. "Please tell me you're joking."  
  
"I'm serious," he said again, this time with a little more urgency. "I know it's hard to believe, but I swear I'm not lying."  
  
She opened her mouth as if to say something and then closed it abruptly. After going through this process several more times, she finally managed to say, "So, she's a witch, huh? Okay, then. How did you find this out?" The tone of her voice made it incredibly evident that she didn't believe him for a flat second.  
  
"We don't go to St. Mary's," he said, not knowing how else to explain this away. "We go to a special school that teaches magic."  
  
Gia turned her lips inward and nodded slowly with slightly widened eyes. It was clear that she was trying to decide what in the world to say next. "So, if Hermione's a witch, what does that make you? A warlock?" The tone of her voice gave away the fact that she was simply humoring him at this point.  
  
However, he kept trying to make her understand. "A wizard," he said simply. "Warlocks aren't very nice people."  
  
At this, Gia burst into a high-pitched, almost hysterical laughter. "Oh, my God..." she said airily. "You're being completely serious... You're crazy." She let out another wistful laugh. "I should have known better... I knew you were too perfect. Celeste tried to tell me. She said, 'He's got to have a flaw,' but I didn't believe her... I said, 'No, really. He's perfect.' And... and you're crazy." Her forehead dropped into her hand, and she shook her head, completely stunned.  
  
Harry didn't know what to do now. She thought he was mad; she thought he was insane. And he realized that anyone who tried to tell a story like the one he was attempting would be met with the same reaction. "Gia, I'm not crazy," he tried to defend himself, but was cut off when she suddenly looked back up at him with huge eyes.  
  
"I can't believe it," she said with a trembling voice. "Why didn't I know it was too good to be true..."  
  
"Gia, listen," he begged. "I know it sounds crazy, but just please try to believe me!"  
  
"Believe you?!" She looked at him wild-eyed. "You think you're a wizard! You think you can do magic! I... I just don't know why I thought it was possible to be as perfect as you seemed to be... I should have known..."  
  
"Wingardium Leviosa!"  
  
He cut her off this time by reaching into the pocket of his coat and drawing out his wand. With a quick swish and flick, a book that had been resting on her bedside table floated several feet into the air. Harry knew that he was breaking several wizarding laws by performing the simplest of charms, but he didn't care right then. All he was worried about was making Gia believe that he wasn't insane. Her head whipped around on instant after he uttered the words, and she gasped in shock at the sight behind her.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded, keeping her eyes on the book and scooting further away from him.  
  
"Proving that I'm not crazy," he said determinedly.  
  
Gia watched in complete shock as the book was lowered back to the table and resumed its inanimate activity. Slowly, she turned back to Harry and studied him for several minutes. "How did you do that?" she whispered finally.  
  
Harry glanced down at the wand he was still holding. "I tried to tell you..."  
  
"Do it again." She didn't hesitate in voice her reply.  
  
"But I could get in serious trouble," he explained quietly. "I'm not supposed to be doing any magic away from school."  
  
"Do it again," she repeated, obviously not caring that he was breaking the law to adhere to her request. "But to something else, that way I know you didn't rig it." She looked around her room in search of something else. Her eyes settled on an oversized stuffed dog that sat in a chair across the room. "Make him float," she instructed simply.  
  
Harry sighed but finally gave in. "How's this?" he asked, pointing his wand at the toy and saying, "Accio, Dog!" Within seconds, the stuffed animal had shot through the room and was resting gently between them.  
  
Gia looked positively terrified. Her head shot around as if to make sure no one was listening in, and she spoke in a very heated whisper. "How did you do that?" she demanded.  
  
Harry wanted to pull his hair out. "Gia, please!" he tried desperately. "I'm not lying. I swear to you, I'm telling the truth."  
  
"But this can't be real..." She spoke in a tiny, timid little whisper that almost sounded as if she was on the verge of tears. "It's just... impossible."  
  
He let out a low breath. "I can't do anymore. I could get expelled from school if they find out."  
  
She just looked at him with those huge eyes she'd recently acquired. "But this just cannot be for real. It just can't be."  
  
"Look, I know it sounds crazy. I couldn't believe it, either, the first time I found out."  
  
"What do you mean, the first time you found out?" Now, she looked even more confused. "Haven't you known your whole life?"  
  
Well, at least it was beginning to sound as if she believed him. That was a plus. Harry shook his head. "No, I grew up with Muggles."  
  
"Muggles?" she asked immediately, before he even had a chance to explain.  
  
He was suddenly quite nervous but struggled to make everything sound somewhat believable. "Muggles are people with no magic in them." He hesitated for a second. "Like you're a Muggle."  
  
"A Muggle," she repeated slowly. Then she looked back up at him. "So, your aunt and uncle aren't... whatever?"  
  
He shook his head. "No, but my parents were. I just never knew until I got the letter telling me I'd been accepted to Hogwarts- that's the real name of our school, by the way."  
  
"But Hermione's parents are dentists! They're not..." It was as if she couldn't quite bring herself to say the words.  
  
Harry understood, though, and shook his head again. "No. Hermione's Muggle-born; she's the only witch in her entire family. No one in her family even knows about it except for her parents and grandparents."  
  
"Well, why isn't your aunt... a witch?" she finally managed.  
  
"My mum was Muggle-born, too. She's the only magic on that side of the family. My dad came from a pureblood family, like Ron's. His whole family is magic." He prayed that he was making sense.  
  
Gia just looked at him silently for a long moment before leaning forward and placing her face into her hands for the second time. "I don't know what to say," she mumbled.  
  
Harry was quiet, too, before finally gathering up enough words to make his sentence coherent. "I know it's a lot to handle. And if it's too much, I... understand." He swallowed something funny in his throat. "I just didn't think it was fair to keep lying to you."  
  
Gia slowly looked up. Her voice was extremely quiet and her face quite pale. "Are you breaking up with me?"  
  
He noticed that she always seemed to jump to the worst conclusions, as if she'd been given nothing but bad news all her life. Maybe she had. Assuring her that he wasn't breaking up with her, he shook his head. "No! I'm not. I mean... I thought that maybe you... would want to because..." He couldn't make his brain function properly. He hoped that she wouldn't; he was finally happy for once, and he didn't want anything to come between that. But he wouldn't stop her if she did because he understood how difficult it must be for her.  
  
Gia frowned slightly; her eyes looked funny. In a very quiet voice, she shook her head and whispered, "I don't want to break up."  
  
Harry let out a breath he hadn't been aware of. In an equally quiet voice, he breathed an airy, "Good." Then, swallowing down the last bit of anxiousness, he attempted once more to get a real opinion out of her. "Do you think I'm like a freak or something, though?"  
  
Gia glanced down, and he was positive that she was going to say yes. A moment later when she looked up, though, she shook her head gently. "No. It's just... weird, I guess."  
  
"I know," he assured her. "But it's not like we're not normal teenagers or anything. I mean, we are. It's just... we're not, too." He sighed loudly. "It's very weird."  
  
Gia bit down on her lower lip. "I've known Hermione since I was five years old. We've never been close or anything, but still... I never knew."  
  
"No one does," he said quickly. "And please, please don't tell anyone. No one."  
  
She nodded absently. "Okay..." She looked somewhere far off, and her eyes glazed over slightly.  
  
Harry watched her for a second before slowly getting up. "Look, I'm going to go back to Hermione's now, okay? So you can think and... stuff. And I'll call you tomorrow."  
  
Gia looked up at him as he spoke. She nodded carefully and mumbled, "Yeah. Okay."  
  
Harry looked at her for just another moment before turning around to leave. But she stood up and caught his arm before he could move. He spun around and saw that she looked scared again. With raised eyebrows, he asked her what was wrong.  
  
"Nothing's going to change between us, is it?" she asked nervously.  
  
"I hope not," he answered honestly. He kissed her cheek lightly before leaving her house and thinking about everything. He'd been completely truthful in his final answer to her. He wanted everything to be the same as always.  
  
He hoped things never changed.  
  
**************************************  
  
Well, she knows... Now what? Guess you'll just have to wait and see, huh? Just two more chapters before they go back to Hogwarts, and then things REALLY start to change. Just a preview of what's to come in future chapters... The prophecy is explored full-force. Something that none of them expected is discovered about one member of the trio. A missing brother finally shows back up. The Weasley baby is born. And much, much, much more!  
  
Next up: Ron and Hermione decide it's time to come out of the dark about their relationship.  
  
PS- Don't forget to join the Yahoo! discussion group. The URL is http://groups.yahoo.com/group/when_things_change/  
  
And, as always, please let me know what you think! 


	50. More Truths

A/N: Your reviews keep getting better and better! Thanks a million!!!!  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine!  
  
********************** "I cannot believe holiday is over tomorrow!" Ron threw down a quill in frustration and glared at the open Charms book in front of him.  
  
Hermione, who was sitting on the bed reading some Muggle novel that hadn't left her face for the past two days, didn't even bother looking up as she said, "I can't believe you've not finished your homework yet."  
  
Ron's head moved, and his glare turned toward her instead of the course book. "I've been a bit busy," he said haughtily. "When was I supposed to do it?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes slightly but still didn't deem to move them to him. "Oh, I don't know," she said sarcastically. "Maybe during one of those nine-hundred hours you spent in front of the television."  
  
"Well, excuse me for wanting to gain as much as possible from my brief expedition into the Muggle world. I was only trying to make it as educational as possible." He seemed quite self-satisfied with his response.  
  
Hermione, however, simply snorted and finally raised her eyes to smirk at him.  
  
"And anyway," he went on, ignoring her look. "When did you do all of it? You've been with me the whole time."  
  
Not that he was complaining, of course.  
  
Hermione's eyebrows raised and wiggled just a bit mysteriously before she grinned and said, "It's magic."  
  
Now, it was Ron's turn to snort. "So speaks the girl with the Time Turner..."  
  
Hermione burst into laughter and immediately grabbed the pillow beside her, throwing it forcefully through the air at him. Ron caught it on instant and immediately hurled it right back at her where it proceeded to smack right against the side of her head, earning another bout of giggles from her.  
  
"Good to know your Keeper skills are still on top," she observed with a teasing smile. "Gryffindor might have a chance yet."  
  
Ron actually took quite a bit of offense to this statement. "Excuse me, but Gryffindor is in first place in case you haven't noticed."  
  
"Oh, I know," she said with a nod. "But you haven't played Ravenclaw yet, and Harry never seems to try as hard when a certain fellow Seeker is in the air..."  
  
Ron laughed, realizing what she meant and knowing fully-well that it was true. "Yeah, but he always pulls through, doesn't he?"  
  
She shrugged. "I guess so."  
  
"And I don't think Cho is going to be on Harry's mind too much anymore anyway. I'm pretty sure that his brain is now filled ninety-eight percent full with a certain Muggle."  
  
Hermione shrugged again. "I guess so."  
  
Harry had told Gia about Hogwarts three days ago, and surprisingly enough, she hadn't completely freaked out. Harry said that she didn't believe it at first, but he had proved it by doing a couple of Charms; this, of course, earned a rather harsh scolding from Hermione who said everything from, "You could get expelled!" to "That's illegal!" to "What if you had made a mistake and destroyed her room?!" Harry and Ron had both rolled their eyes at the last claim, as it was virtually impossible that Harry could have messed up 'Wingardium Leviosa.' However, they was a bit surprised that no letters had come from the Ministry or from the school about his underage magic use; Ron rolled his eyes again as he'd mumbled, "Probably because it's Harry Potter," when they'd been marveling over the fact that he hadn't gotten in trouble. But anyway, after the initial shock, Gia had become completely obsessed with learning any and everything that she possibly could about the wizarding world; Hermione had been reluctant at first to divulge any information and scolded the boys for doing so, claiming that they still didn't know if she was going to keep it a secret. But it appeared that Gia was keeping it a secret; she'd sworn up and down never to tell anyone. And eventually, Hermione had given in and even showed her some of the textbooks. Gia was amazed by everything from their wands to the moving pictures in their books to the few stories they'd taken the liberty of telling her about their time at Hogwarts. It actually made things much easier on them now that Gia knew; they didn't have quite as many secrets.  
  
Gia had also taken to questioning Hermione about all of the people at their school; she couldn't quite get past the fact that everything sounded so completely normal when it was so obviously abnormal. That conversation had actually been quite amusing.  
  
**************Flashback*************  
  
"So, what are your roommates like?" Gia asked anxiously.  
  
"They're okay." Hermione shrugged a bit. "Nice enough, just a bit ditzy. They giggle and gossip a lot. And they're gorgeous. I always feel ugly next to them."  
  
Gia rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. I don't see how you could feel ugly next to anyone. Have you looked in the mirror?"  
  
"You don't know Lavender and Parvati," Hermione said matter-of-factly. "Lavender is tall and thin, and she used to have long, blonde hair, but she cut it a few months ago. Now, it's a little above her shoulders and flips out really nicely, and she's got huge bluey-purplish eyes. And Parvati is of Indian-descent, so she's got this beautiful mocha colored skin, and dark eyes, almost onyx looking. And her hair- she's got this thick jet black hair that falls past her waist. And then there's me- short with brown hair and brown eyes. I'm definitely the plain one."  
  
Gia rolled her eyes again. "Whatever, Hermione."  
  
"It's true!" she protested immediately. "And they're not even the prettiest girls in the school, either." She thought for a moment, quickly figuring that mentioning Cho Chang's beauty was probably not a good idea. She settled instead for, "Like Ron's sister, Ginny. Now, she's like the walking definition of a beauty queen, and she doesn't even know it."  
  
"Really? What's she look like?"  
  
Hermione pictured the youngest Weasley in her mind for a moment. "Well, she's got the red hair, of course, because everyone in that family does. Hers and Ron's are about the same color, but his is just a little bit darker than hers. But hers is so straight and so shiny, and it comes... well, I guess it's about the same length as mine. And she's got this really pale skin that looks almost porcelain; it's really smooth and milky, but she's got a sprinkle of freckles that go just over the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheeks. And she's got the biggest eyes I have ever seen in my life; they're a light browny-golden sort of color, really pretty. Oh, and she's tall, and she definitely has more curves than I've got." Hermione smiled a little and shrugged. "She's just really pretty."  
  
"Wow," Gia grinned. "Sounds like it. I wish I could meet her; she sounds really nice."  
  
Hermione considered this for a moment. That would certainly be an interesting meeting... 'Hello, Ginny. Meet Harry's girlfriend.'  
  
Yeah, right.  
  
"Yeah," Hermione agreed, careful not to let her thoughts show through on her face. "She's really cool."  
  
"She's your best friend?"  
  
"Ron and Harry are my best friends."  
  
Gia nodded. "Yeah, but I mean girlfriend."  
  
Shrugging, Hermione nodded a little. "Yeah, I guess so."  
  
"Has she got a boyfriend?"  
  
Hermione bit her tongue for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "No. There's a guy that she likes, but... he's seeing someone else right now."  
  
Gia frowned. "Well, she should just move in on him. She sounds gorgeous; a guy would have to be gay not to like her. She should just push the other girl out of the way and take whatever she wants."  
  
A loud laugh escaped Hermione, and she immediately put a hand to her mouth to cease it.  
  
Gia raised an eyebrow. "What's so funny?"  
  
"Nothing," she answered instantly. "It's just... Nothing, never mind."  
  
***************End Flashback***************  
  
"Hermione!"  
  
Ron's whining immediately drew her out of slight lapse in time, and she looked over at her desk where he was leaned back in the chair staring at her expectantly.  
  
"What do you want?" she asked smoothly.  
  
"I don't understand this!" he continued to whine. "None of it makes sense!"  
  
Hermione glanced at the textbook and saw that he was working on his Charms assignment. With a slight laugh, she said, "Here's a hint. Make the 'gar' nice and long in 'Wingardium'..."  
  
Ron glared at her. "Hand me the pillow, so I can throw it at you again."  
  
Hermione laughed and got up from her place on the bed to stand behind him. She peered down at his work; only a few of the questions were answered, and the ones that were weren't exactly perfect. Shaking her head slightly, she sighed and said, "This is all wrong."  
  
"Well, then help me!" He looked up at her expectantly.  
  
Crossing her arms over her chest, she looked back at him just as expectantly. "Why should I?"  
  
With the tiniest hint of a smirk, Ron reached a hand up and pushed her hair back from her face. "Because if you don't, I might tell your mum that you didn't really burn your neck with a curling iron."  
  
Hermione shrugged away from him and rolled her eyes. "Oh, that would go over brilliantly with my father. Why don't you just do that?"  
  
He considered this for a moment and then nodded. "Oh, yeah. Right." Then he stuck out his lower lip and pleaded once more with her, this time using the pity attempt. "Please, 'Mione? I really need your help."  
  
After staring at him with pursed lips for a long moment, she rolled her eyes again and gave in. "Fine. Leaning across him to the other end of the desk, she reached for her own work and scooted it beside his. She bent down a little and started comparing the two pieces of work, pointing out what was different and how he should redo his. Ron, though, seemed quite distracted and didn't appear to be paying too much attention.  
  
"Are you listening to me?" she asked, turning her head and watching the way he was eyeing her profile intently.  
  
His eyes flicked back to meet her own, and he appeared completely lost. "Huh? Oh... Yeah..."  
  
"What did I just say?"  
  
Ron continued to stare at her. "You smell good."  
  
Lost in his words for a brief second, she momentarily forgot about his work. She came back to reality quite quickly, though, and did her best to look reprovingly. "Ron, do you want to finish your homework or not?"  
  
"Not as badly as I want to spend the last day of holiday with you." His words had come without hesitation, and his eyes were so full of honesty that she almost felt like she could melt on the spot.  
  
"Ron..." She started to scold him for procrastinating, but she stopped short when his hand once again went to her hair.  
  
"The curls are beautiful," he said suddenly.  
  
Hermione forgot all about schoolwork.  
  
It was without struggle that she allowed herself to be pulled down and into a kiss, which ended quite easily with her sitting on top of his lap. 'I can't believe we have to go back to school tomorrow..." he murmured against the side of her neck.  
  
School.  
  
Things would change now. It was one thing to carry on like this with Ron while she was at home, but tomorrow they'd be back at Hogwarts. This brought up several problems, not the least of which was their best friend.  
  
"We need to tell Harry," she said suddenly, leaning back just enough to escape his lips, which were once again headed for her own. Her statement caused him to look at her seriously.  
  
He didn't need to ask what she was referring to; his face showed immediate apprehension. "I thought you didn't want to."  
  
"Well, he'll find out anyway, won't he?" She paused for a moment. "Everyone will."  
  
Ron's face set into defeat. She understood his worries about telling people; she was worried, too. Harry had made it no secret that he didn't want the two of them together, but what had happened had happened and there was nothing to change it. They liked each other too much to let anyone else, no matter if it was their best friend, stand in the way.  
  
Nodding, though, Ron agreed. "Yeah, we should tell him."  
  
"You should tell him," Hermione corrected instantly.  
  
The look on Ron's face was priceless. "Why me?!"  
  
"Because you're a boy." Wasn't it the most obvious thing in the world?  
  
"What's that got to do with anything?"  
  
"Harry's a boy, too."  
  
"I know that..."  
  
"You're both boys."  
  
Ron was getting exasperated. "Why does that matter?!"  
  
"Because you're both boys, so you should talk about things like that. I shouldn't."  
  
"Oh, really?" Ron didn't seem to share her logic. "And who are you going to tell?"  
  
"Lavender and Parvati," she answered instantly, giggling to show that she wasn't being serious.  
  
"Oh, yeah," Ron said sarcastically. "I'm sure if the whole school didn't know it before, they would then."  
  
Hermione shrugged. "And I could tell Ginny."  
  
"What?!" Ron's eyes doubled in size. "You can't tell Ginny!"  
  
Hermione giggled again, thoroughly enjoying the look on his face. "Or maybe you should tell Ginny. She is your sister."  
  
"No one is telling Ginny," Ron said flatly. "She's too young to be discussing things like that."  
  
At this statement, Hermione snorted disdainfully. "Please, Ron. Let me point something out in case you haven't noticed. There is a larger age difference between you and me than there is between Ginny and me."  
  
It was clear that Ron was mentally doing the math in his head, and when he finally realized that she was right, he rolled his eyes. "By a month!"  
  
Hermione rolled her own eyes before standing up from his lap and looking pointedly at him. "Tell Harry."  
  
Ron glowered. "Fine. But you have to help me with this Charms shit."  
  
Hermione laughed and reached for her work, which she promptly shoved into his hands. "This is the only time I'm ever going to let you copy." With an flip of the hair, she walked airily out of the room, leaving a stunned Ron holding her homework in his hand.  
  
*******************************  
  
Ron waited up until he heard Harry come in late that night. As it was his last night with Gia, he'd stayed out later than usual, spending as much time with her as possible before they'd have to say good-bye the next day. When he was sure that Harry was upstairs and shut carefully into his bedroom, Ron tiptoed out of his own room and knocked gently on his best friend's door, glancing down the hall and seeing that Hermione's lights were already out.  
  
Harry opened the door slightly and peeked his head out in question of who the late-night visitor was. When he saw that it was Ron, he opened the door fully and let him in. "What's up?" he asked as he shut the door and finished getting ready for bed.  
  
Ron shrugged, doing his best to appear nonplussed. "Nothing much. Just couldn't sleep."  
  
Harry nodded absently as he continued about his business. "You all packed?" he asked, eyeing his own empty suitcase.  
  
Ron nodded vaguely. "Yeah, mostly. Just a few things left."  
  
Harry turned around with huge eyes all of a sudden. "Shit!"  
  
Ron was confused and wrinkled his forehead to voice this. "What's wrong?"  
  
"I haven't done any of my homework!"  
  
Ron laughed. "I'm all done."  
  
Harry sneered slightly. "Yeah, well you've been with Hermione. She probably held a gun to your head until you finished it."  
  
"Actually," Ron went on smoothly, "she let me copy hers."  
  
"Are you serious?!" Harry was in stunned disbelief, and when Ron nodded, he said, "Can I copy yours on the train?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "Of course. Just don't tell Hermione." After a few seconds, he tried to gradually change the subject away from homework. "So, how are things with Gia?"  
  
Harry's face fell. "I don't even know when I'll get to see her again."  
  
His friend's voice was so full of honesty that Ron felt a tiny bit bad about it. "You can see her at Easter," he said cheerily. "When we come home to see the baby, you can take the Floo back here and go see Gia."  
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah. But April's a long way away."  
  
"It won't be that bad." It was an attempt to cheer his best friend up, but it wasn't working too well.  
  
When no one said anything else for several moments, Ron decided to just suck it up and do it. Gryffindor courage... Gryffindor courage...  
  
"Um, Harry? There's something I've been meaning to tell you..."  
  
The raven-haired boy looked up immediately as if he knew what was coming. His eyes set seriously and he waited expectantly.  
  
"Yeah," Ron swallowed slightly. "Um... Remember when you asked me if I liked Hermione?"  
  
The green eyes deepened even more, and Harry frowned. "Yeah, I remember..." he said slowly.  
  
Ron nodded again. He could feel his face heating up slightly. "Right. Well, remember how I said I didn't?"  
  
"Yeah..."  
  
"Well, yeah. I lied."  
  
Ron said all of it very quickly and suddenly found the print of the bed quilt quite intriguing. He couldn't look at Harry, but he didn't need to. His reaction was clear.  
  
"What?!" The response was loud and caused Ron to jump. "You cannot like Hermione!"  
  
At this, Ron looked up, something strange filling his brain. "What's wrong with Hermione?" he asked sharply.  
  
"Well, for one," Harry said instantly, his eyes dancing dangerously, "you fight with her too much. For two, she annoys you. For three, she's your best friend. And for four, she's Hermione Granger!"  
  
Ron forced himself not to get angry. It wouldn't do to go around punching Harry the night before they were supposed to go back to school. "What's that supposed to mean?" he questioned shortly. "She's Hermione Granger? What is that?"  
  
"She's like my sister!" Harry nearly screamed this. "You shouldn't be liking her! Or kissing her! Or touching her or anything! No one should!"  
  
"She's not your sister," Ron said sharply. "And even if she was, she's a big girl and can make her own decisions. She doesn't need you to be overprotective."  
  
Harry snorted with a rather rueful laughter. "Listen to yourself! You're such a hypocrite! And Hermione is the closest thing to a sister I've ever had or will have."  
  
"Well, she's still capable of taking care of herself. Why do you even care so much?"  
  
"Because she's Hermione Granger!"  
  
"Yeah?..."  
  
"What if it was Ginny Weasley?" Harry asked with narrowed eyes. "How would you feel then?"  
  
Ron screwed up his face in disgust. "Gross! I'd feel incestuous- why would you even say that?"  
  
"Not you, you dolt!" Harry said with a roll of the eyes. "What if it was me and Ginny?"  
  
Ron immediately stopped his tirade and glared piercingly at the other boy. "Don't you even think about it."  
  
"I'm not," Harry said exasperatedly. "But if I was, you'd get mad. It's the same way I feel about Hermione."  
  
"There's a huge difference there, Harry. Blood. Ginny and I happen to have a bit of the same; you and Hermione don't."  
  
"It doesn't matter!" Harry groaned. "Ugh! Ron, why?"  
  
"Because she's fucking gorgeous for one!" Ron exclaimed, not even caring anymore. "And because she's brilliant. And wonderful. And caring. And compassionate. And mostly because she's just damn perfect!"  
  
Harry didn't have a retort. He simply stared in quiet disbelief as Ron's cheeks finally decided to blush at his unbridled confession.  
  
"You really like her?" he asked softly.  
  
Ron's face dropped to his hands for a long moment before he finally looked back up and sighed quietly. "Yes. I really like her. I've liked her for a long time."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And she likes me, too," he added quietly.  
  
"You know this for sure?"  
  
Ron nodded.  
  
"Have you talked about it?"  
  
Another nod.  
  
"Have you kissed her?"  
  
Ron hesitated for just a second before nodding again.  
  
"What?!" Harry's loud voice was back. "How long has it been going on?"  
  
Sighing again, Ron said, "Since Christmas..."  
  
A look of unmistakable hurt crossed Harry's features. "And you've just been keeping it a secret?"  
  
"You haven't exactly been around," Ron pointed out shortly.  
  
Harry ignored him. "I can't believe you didn't tell me."  
  
"Look," Ron said pointedly. "I didn't tell you because Hermione wasn't ready, and I didn't want to screw it up. And I didn't want to jinx it, either. Just please understand," he begged gently. "I like her in a way I didn't think was possible. I didn't want to mess anything up."  
  
Harry regarded him for a long moment before turning around and mumbling something that sounded like, "I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
Ron, defeated and knowing that there was no use, stood up silently and walked to the door. Without another word, he let himself out and went back to his own room. Harry would get over it. It would just take some getting used to; that's all.  
  
And when Harry was fine with it, his life would be perfect.  
  
Or at least he hoped so.  
  
************************  
  
Just one more chapter at the Grangers! Unfortunately, you've got to wait till after Christmas. I'm going out of town for the holidays. I'll still be posting on the yahoo group, but I won't have a chance to upload.  
  
I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season whether you celebrate Christmas, Chanukah. Kwanzaa, Solstice, or anything else. Be safe and have fun! 


	51. A Few Words Change Everything

A/N: Sorry for the delay! Hope you all had a wonderful holiday!!! Thanks to everyone who reviewed on the last chapter!  
  
Disclaimer: Nope!  
  
**************************  
  
The next morning was hectic to say the very least. Hermione was up and ready with her bag by the door before the boys even made it downstairs for breakfast. She noticed right away the funny way Harry looked at her, and she knew that Ron must have told him about everything. She caught Ron's eye in question, and he half-nodded before looking away.  
  
The three of them sat in silence while the adult Grangers bustled around with cellular phones on their ears, discussing the schedule for the day with their office. Mrs. Granger pulled hers away long enough to tell the kids that they had to leave in an hour. This, of course, was followed by the sound of the doorbell and the appearance of Gia, who smiled nicely at everyone before disappearing up the stairs with Harry, who still hadn't finished packing. Ron hadn't, either, and Hermione nudged him up the stairs, thankful for once for her parents' busyness.  
  
She followed him into his room and locked the door behind them. "So, what did he say?" she asked immediately as she dropped to the floor beside him and started folding the clothes he was throwing aimlessly at his bag.  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "He went all overprotective about you and tried to turn it around and say that the way he feels about us is the same way I would feel about him and Ginny.  
  
"What?" Hermione wrinkled up her brow, momentarily forgetting about the freshly ironed shirt she was trying to save from wrinkled doom. "Since when did I turn into Harry's little sister?"  
  
"You tell me!" Ron exclaimed. "That's what I was like. I told him you didn't need anyone to take care of you."  
  
A strange feeling, something close to anger, filled her. "And what else did he say?"  
  
"He said we fight too much."  
  
Hermione was now positive that it was anger. "He should mind his own business."  
  
Ron shrugged and threw another school shirt into the bag and then pulled it back out. "I need something to change into on the train," he explained before carrying on with the story. "And then he was mad because we hadn't told him."  
  
"Well, maybe if he'd been around for more than two damn minutes a day, he would have noticed." The sarcasm was quite evident.  
  
Ron nodded. "I said that, too."  
  
"If he's got a problem with me doing something without his permission, then he better just come out and say it to my face. And I'll tell him exactly what he can do with himself." Ron's eyes widened in shock at her suggestion, but she was too angry to care. "Who the hell does he think he is anyway? He's not my bloody keeper!"  
  
When it was clear that her tirade was over, Ron spoke carefully. "Well, yeah, I mean I know. But I sort of understand why he's upset. I think he's going a bit overboard with the whole overprotective thing, but I can kind of see where he's coming from."  
  
"What do you mean? He's got no right to get mad at us."  
  
"Well, it's one thing when we're here. He didn't even notice because Gia's around to distract him. But when we're back at school, he probably thinks we're going to leave him out or something."  
  
"But we wouldn't do that," she protested at once. "Especially not now with everything the way that it is. He should know that."  
  
Ron once again got the look that showed he felt like he was giving too much away. "We're the only people he's ever been able to really depend on. He's probably just scared we're going to abandon him or something. He's probably got some kind of deeply hidden resentment toward his parents for leaving him when he was just a baby, and he doesn't want us to do the same."  
  
He finished quietly, and Hermione stared at him in silent shock. "When did you become a psychologist?"  
  
Ron blushed slightly. "I read a book about orphans once. You know, just to see if I could help..." he mumbled as he looked away.  
  
It was almost as if he was embarrassed to care about his best friend so much, but Hermione's heart literally swelled at the motion. It was the sweetest thing she'd ever heard in her life. Without so much as a second of hesitation, she grabbed his face in her hands and pressed her lips tightly to his own. When she pulled away, she didn't remove her hands from his chin. She looked him straight in the eye and said, "You are so perfect."  
  
He laughed uneasily, obviously embarrassed but pleased. In an attempt at humor, he said, "Yeah, you say that now, but wait until the O.W.L.s come around."  
  
Hermione laughed and gave him one more quick kiss before returning to the clothes folding. "Well, we won't ignore him," she went on. "We'll make sure that we don't, okay?"  
  
Ron mumbled, " 'Course, we won't," before taking back over his packing and shoving all of his clothes in anyway they would fit.  
  
**************************  
  
"I guess that's it." Harry zipped up his bag and reached for his schoolbooks, which were going on the train with him.  
  
Gia was sitting on the floor with her back leaned against the bed. "Are you okay?" she asked suddenly. "With the whole Ron and Hermione thing, I mean."  
  
Harry had filled her in on his conversation with Ron while she'd helped him pack. She'd listened without interrupting, and he was grateful that there was someone he could just openly vent to while he felt betrayed by the only other people he could vent to.  
  
In answer to her question, he shrugged. "I don't know. It's just weird." Frowning slightly, he said, "And it will never work."  
  
"Why do you say that?"  
  
"Because it just won't," he said simply. "You don't know them like I do. All they do is fight and bitch about each other. And they're total opposites- like night and day. And Hermione nags him too much, and he does things to purposely annoy her, just to get a rise out of her."  
  
Gia was smirking in a strange way that Harry wasn't sure he liked. "They sound perfect for each other."  
  
"What?!" She was supposed to be on his side, not theirs.  
  
Gia rolled her eyes. "When you guys were younger, I bet he teased her all the time, didn't he?"  
  
"Yeah, but so what?" Harry shrugged. "Everyone teased her. She was annoying and got on everyone's nerves. She didn't have any friends."  
  
Gia laughed. "That's mean."  
  
He shrugged again. "Well, it's the truth. You knew her back then; you know how she was." He gave her a pointed look. "And from what I hear, you weren't exactly nice to her."  
  
Gia laughed again. "She told you about that?"  
  
"It was the first thing she told me." Harry stood up and walked over to the bed where he sat down. "But anyway, what does him teasing her have to do with anything?"  
  
"Because that's how little boys are," she said with an obvious sigh. "When a little boy likes a little girl, he's mean to her. He pulls her pigtails and puts frogs in her chair."  
  
"Hermione never wore pigtails- I don't think she could even brush her hair, much less restrain it." They both snickered before he went on. "And Ron wouldn't have dared to put a frog in her chair because she would have hexed him until he couldn't do anything but jump and ribbit."  
  
Gia's eyes widened. "Can you really do that?"  
  
"Hermione could- even as an eleven year old. I don't think there's a spell that she can't do. Ron and I aren't so lucky," he added ruefully.  
  
She giggled. "Well, anyway, what I mean is that they fight because they like each other. It's pent up sexual tension."  
  
Harry wrinkled his nose. "Okay, let's not talk about it anymore."  
  
Gia laughed again and joined him on the bed. "Right," she said, glancing at her watch. "We have twenty-six minutes left, and I don't want to waste them."  
  
Harry knew what she meant and didn't protest when she kissed him.  
  
"I'm going to miss you," she mumbled against his lips.  
  
He lowered his forehead to lean against hers. As he looked into her eyes and linked his fingers through hers, he wondered what to say. Saying that he would miss her, too, didn't seem like enough; missing her wouldn't even come close to what he would feel when he got back to school. Missing was a word he would use when he couldn't play Quidditch for a whole summer- nothing compared to the way he felt about Gia.  
  
But how was he supposed to tell her how he felt about her, how much she meant to him, when he couldn't even sort it out in his mind?  
  
He kissed her again, trying to commit the feeling to memory. It would be all he had to go on until at least Easter.  
  
"I wish I wasn't leaving," he whispered, pulling away to kiss the bottom of her earlobe.  
  
But some things can't be helped, and twenty minutes later, Harry and Gia broke away from each other to the sound of Mr. Granger yelling up the stairs for everyone to hurry up. A knock on the door revealed an awkwardly smiling Hermione.  
  
"You ready?" she asked Harry a little too brightly.  
  
No, he wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to go back to classes, to a nagging McGonagall, to a sneering Snape; he wasn't ready to face an annoying Malfoy; he wasn't ready to go back to reality where he was plagued by nightmares and terrifying mental images. And he was ready to leave Gia. But he only shrugged and said, "Yeah, I guess."  
  
Ron's door opened and he appeared in the hallway, lugging his bag behind him. "Time to go, huh?"  
  
Hermione nodded a little. "Yeah," she added quietly. An odd moment of silence hovered over them for a moment before Hermione finally forced a smile and turned to Gia. "Well, I guess we'll see you at Easter. Maybe we'll get to bring the baby."  
  
Ginny grinned. "Oh, I hope so! Do you think your mum'll let you?" she turned her eyes on Ron.  
  
He shrugged. "Not if it was just me, but she probably trusts them," he swung his head in the direction of his best friends.  
  
Gia laughed. "Well, I hope so." She smiled at them. "I guess I'll see you later then."  
  
Hermione returned the smile for a second before wrapping the other girl in a hug. Gia whispered something to Hermione that Harry couldn't hear but that caused both of the girls to giggle and glance at Ron when they pulled apart. Gia then gave Ron a quick hug, which Harry noticed Hermione watched rather closely; he chose to ignore the fact that he was watching it rather intently himself. Afterwards, Ron and Hermione disappeared down the stairs.  
  
As soon as they were gone, a feeling of dread settled heavily in the air. This was it. Time was up.  
  
Without warning, Gia threw her arms around Harry's neck and buried her face into the front of his coat. For a long moment, they simply hugged each other; neither of them wanted to move, but they both knew they had to. When Gia lifted her head without removing her arms, there were tears glistening in her eyes.  
  
Harry couldn't stand there and watch her cry; it was too much to ask of him. Her tears seemed to leak into his very soul, and he didn't know what to do. He had to leave; he had to go right then. There was no time left.  
  
But before he left, there was one thing he had to do. He pulled away from her just long enough to unzip the front pocket of his bag. A second later, he produced a thin package he'd picked up on the last trip to London he'd taken with the Grangers.  
  
He held the small bag out to her, feeling his cheeks heat up slightly. "I bought his for you," he said quietly. "Sorry it's not wrapped or anything."  
  
Gia looked at him for a moment before taking the package and slowly removing the item from the bag. Harry saw her breath catch as she looked at the present. "Little Bear..." she mumbled absently, her eyes studying the book in her hands.  
  
No explanation was needed. Harry knew that the book had been lost after her mother's death. He knew how much he'd give to have something to remind him of his own mother, and he knew that he would do anything in his power to give Gia the same opportunity.  
  
He watched silently as she ran a hand over the cover in awe. And then the tears that had been glistening in her eyes before started to fall. She didn't say a word as she cried.  
  
Feeling something tug at the back of his own eyes, Harry swallowed and spoke up. "Gia, I have to go," he said quietly.  
  
Finally snapping back, Gia looked up at him with tear-streaked cheeks. After a brief second of silence, she once again wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him. But not before whispering something that would change his life forever.  
  
"I love you."  
  
Harry wasn't sure why his eyes fluttered shut as she said it, but he felt like the breath had just been knocked out of him. No one- that he could recollect anyway- had ever said those three words to him. He couldn't remember ever hearing that statement in reference to him, except for the times he'd dreamed of his mother saying it. But this was different. It wasn't a dream; it was real.  
  
The words echoed in his mind, and he knew that the only way to let her know how much she really meant was to return them.  
  
Opening his eyes and brushing a soft kiss against her forehead, he whispered the most important, the truest words he'd ever said in his life.  
  
"I love you, too."  
  
Gia pulled back just enough to search him with open and honest eyes. Then, as if staying was causing her pain, she barely brushed his lips with her own. And then, with a "Goodbye" that was so quiet he could barely make it out, she turned and disappeared down the stairs.  
  
Gone.  
  
Harry wasn't even aware of the fact that he hadn't moved until Ron and Hermione showed back up. They both regarded him silently for a long moment before Ron finally managed a timid question.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
Harry looked up with a suddenly clear mind. Not even worrying about his best friends' reactions, he shook his head and spoke clearly. "No, I'm in love with her."  
  
There was another moment of silence. Ron and Hermione exchanged a wordless look, but Harry didn't care. All he cared about was speaking the truth.  
  
He'd never done a better job of it.  
  
*************************************  
  
An hour later, Hermione found herself outside of Platform 9 ¾ in the middle of her parents, a lot of redheads, and Harry. The Weasleys had waited on them to arrive at Mrs. Weasley's insistence that she get to tell the children goodbye. Of course, Hermione wasn't entirely unsure that Mr. Weasley had protested too much, as he'd already offered to buy her parents drinks after they'd left the train station. When Ron rolled his eyes, Hermione caught him in a quick glance and giggled. The loud coughs by Fred and George did not go unnoticed by Ron, who sent his brothers a death glare.  
  
Blushing, Hermione decided to busy herself with Ginny while the adults chatted. Ron and Harry were caught up in a quiet conversation, but instead of being hurt by the fact that they were leaving her out, she was just happy that they were talking.  
  
Ginny seemed to be in a better mood than she'd been in the last time Hermione had seen her.  
  
"So, how as the rest of your holiday?" Hermione remembered how Mrs. Weasley's mood swings had been driving her children mad.  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Mum taught me how to knit," she said dully, pulling up the ankle of her jeans to reveal a pair of blue socks. "Socks are the only thing I can do, and I can't even get them the same size. The left one is about four inches longer than the right."  
  
Hermione giggled. "Sounds fascinating."  
  
"Thrilling." Ginny laughed and shook her head. "So, what all did you do?"  
  
Without meaning to, Hermione glanced briefly in the direction of Ron, who was still talking with Harry. "Uh... Not a whole lot."  
  
Ginny followed Hermione's gaze and whipped her head back around immediately. Her brown eyes widened. "Did you kiss my brother?" she hissed pointedly.  
  
Hermione felt her cheeks heat up, and she stuttered about for an answer. "Er..."  
  
Ginny needed no more of an explanation. She grabbed Hermione's arm and yanked her around to the back of the barrier. The second they were hidden from view, Ginny let go of Hermione and popped her against the upper arm.  
  
Hermione jumped and reached to rub her arm. "Ow! What was that for?"  
  
"Because you kissed my brother! Ew! Just ew!" Ginny wrinkled up her slightly freckled nose.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. "Oh, shut up."  
  
Ginny promptly ignored her. "So, tell me everything. I want details." She paused for a moment and shook her head. "No, I don't. Okay, yes, I do." She cocked her head slightly. "Is that weird?"  
  
Rolling her eyes again, Hermione glanced around uneasily. "I can't tell you here," she whispered. "Our parents are like two feet away."  
  
Ginny glanced at the still chatting adults. "Just tell me what it was like," she urged quietly. "I've never been kissed; I just want to know what it's like."  
  
"I already told you about Viktor."  
  
Ginny frowned. "Well, I would hope that this was better than that. I mean, please tell me Ron didn't shove his tongue down your throat."  
  
"He didn't," Hermione giggled. "Not the first time anyway."  
  
"Hermione!" Ginny laughed but then, as if remembering who they were talking about, looked quite ill. "Okay, I don't need all the details. Just tell me how it felt."  
  
Hermione considered the question. "How could she put it into words? Kissing Ron was like nothing she'd ever felt. The only word worthy of it was...  
  
"Perfect."  
  
"Perfect?"  
  
"It felt perfect," Hermione said quietly. "Like everything I ever wanted was finally happening."  
  
Ginny got the starry look that all girls get when hearing about a first kiss. Then she literally gave a quiet squeak. "Oh, I hope you marry him!"  
  
"Ginny!" Hermione felt herself blush. "That's a bit premature."  
  
Rolling her eyes, the redhead shook her head. "I don't mean anytime soon. But someday. I mean, think about it. We'd be sister! And with the baby, there'd be three girls in the family! And if any of my other brothers ever keep a girlfriend for more than a week..." She slowed down just enough to notice the look Hermione was giving her. "Just if you do get married, you don't have to keep giving me all the details of your love life."  
  
"Ginny!" Hermione went very red and turned the tables long enough to smack Ginny on her own arm.  
  
Ginny burst into laughter and, realizing how easy it was to embarrass the other girl, pressed on. "I'm serious, Hermione. Anything past kissing, I don't need to know about it. It is my brother, after all."  
  
"Shut up," Hermione hissed warningly, looking around to make sure they weren't being eavesdropped on.  
  
Ginny laughed again, but then she suddenly frowned. "Damn!" she exclaimed loudly, immediately flipping her head to make sure her mum hadn't heard her swear.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"It's January," she mumbled. But then brightening a bit, she said, "Wait- when did you guys kiss for the first time?"  
  
"Christmas night. Why?"  
  
"Yes! December!" Ginny actually jumped a little. "I won the bet!"  
  
"What bet?" Hermione asked sharply.  
  
Ginny stopped. "Uh... Nothing. Your hair is really cute."  
  
Hermione eyed her suspiciously for a long moment before finally accepting the compliment. "Thank you. Gia taught me how to get it curly without making it frizzy."  
  
"Gia?" Ginny looked up. "Harry's girlfriend?"  
  
Hermione hadn't even though before speaking, but there was no way around it now. "Yeah," she mumbled quietly.  
  
"So," Ginny crossed her arms. "What? Are you guys like best friends now or what?"  
  
Sighing, Hermione fought the urge to tell Ginny that she was being she stupid. "We went to primary school together. She lives in my neighborhood."  
  
"So, I take it they're still together?"  
  
Hermione nodded, making sure not to tell Ginny that Harry had confessed to being in love with Gia just that morning. She wasn't sure how she even felt about it. Love was a big word- especially at fifteen. But maybe it was possible.  
  
At that moment, she heard Mrs. Weasley say, "Where are the girls? It's time to go."  
  
"Right here," Ginny said, stepping around the barrier with no sign of the resentment she was feeling on her face. Hermione had to give it to her- she was good actress if nothing.  
  
Hermione watched closely as Ginny strolled innocently up to Ron and lifted herself onto tiptoe to whisper something in his ear. He turned very read and immediately shoved his sister very roughly into Fred, who managed to catch her before she hit the ground. She stood back up and headed at Ron with the obvious intent to fight, her face set in anger. Luckily, though, Mr. Weasley stepped in just in time to stop his two youngest children from resorting to punches, hissing at them to stop it or else. Or else what, Hermione had no clue, as they would both be on a train headed hundreds of miles away in a manner of minutes.  
  
Ron looked at Hermione with a small glare before looking away. Hermione groaned inwardly. She was going to kill Ginny.  
  
Mrs. Weasley, surprisingly, chose to ignore the near scuffle and started checking to make sure that of the kids had their bags. "You all should get going. The train leaves soon." She then went about saying her goodbyes.  
  
Hermione turned to her own parents, hugging them and promising to call at the first opportunity. Ron and Harry made their rounds with the Grangers while Mrs. Weasley caught Hermione up in a hug.  
  
"Take care of my baby boy," she whispered, brushing a stray curl away from Hermione's face. She grinned. "Your mother's told us all about it," she answered the unasked question of how she knew. Hermione mentally cursed motherly intuition; she hadn't said anything about it past the Christmas Eve conversation. Mrs. Weasley kissed her forehead. "But I knew a long time ago that it would happen."  
  
A few minutes later when she crossed the barrier onto Platform 9 3/4 , Hermione noticed all too well that Ron hadn't bothered to wait on her. He was already loading his bag onto the train, and when she joined him to do the same, he turned away.  
  
"Ron, wait," she caught his arm and halted his getaway. "I'm sorry."  
  
Ron turned hooded blue eyes on her. "How many people did you tell?"  
  
"What?" She'd only told Ginny.  
  
"Your dad just threatened to kill me if I ever hurt you," he said shortly. "I sure as hell didn't tell him."  
  
"I didn't, either," she protested immediately. "My mum figured it out; she told your parents, too."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, brilliant."  
  
A sudden bout of anger surged in her. "What's the big deal anyway?" she challenged. "Are you embarrassed about it?"  
  
"Don't put words in my mouth."  
  
"Well, what is it then? If you're embarrassed, just say it." She let go of his arm and crossed her own.  
  
"Hermione, shut up." He narrowed his eyes at her, and Hermione found herself furious.  
  
"Don't tell me to shut up!" she said rather loudly.  
  
"Then stop making shit up!" he countered just as loudly.  
  
A few people, mostly fellow Gryffindors who were used to being entertained by their fights, had stopped to listen.  
  
"You're so..." No. She wasn't going to have this out with him right here. Cutting off her original though, she lowered her voice and said, "Whatever. That's just fine." And without another word, she turned away to leave.  
  
"Hermione, stop." He caught her by the elbow and spun her around to face him. "That's not it at all."  
  
She hated the way he could make her feel so hurt when all she wanted to be was mad. Yanking her arm away, she commanded herself not to cry. "Just leave me alone."  
  
Without so much as a warning, he grabbed her shoulders and kissed her. Hard. The kiss left Hermione dizzy, so dizzy that she didn't notice the collective gasp of shock from several of their schoolmates who were milling around the train. When he finally released her, she could barely think.  
  
"I'm not embarrassed," he said seriously. Lowering his voice to where only she could hear it, he said, "I'm too lucky to be embarrassed."  
  
She wanted to cry for a whole other reason now.  
  
He offered up a shy smile. "I just know my family, though. They're going to tease us."  
  
Finally reclaiming some sense of coherence, Hermione reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. "I don't care."  
  
Ron watched her for a long moment before finally grinning and placing her bag in the luggage compartment beside his. "And I'll just ignore them."  
  
Hermione smiled, knowing that Ron had never ignored anyone in his entire life. It was a nice sentiment, though, and she decided to let it pass. They climbed onto the train hand in hand but not before Hermione spotted a grinning Ginny surrounded by three scowling boys, Fred, George, and Harry. All the boys were grumbling as they dug into their bags for money to pay up the youngest member of the Weasley family.  
  
Must have been some bet.  
  
***********************  
  
Please review! 


	52. What If It's Over?

A/N: Sorry it's taken so long! Life! Thanks to everyone who reviewed before!!!  
  
Disclaimer; I still don't own them...  
  
*********************************  
  
The first couple of weeks back at school were as normal as might be expected for a place as seemingly abnormal as Hogwarts. Classes were anyway. Professor McGonagall had immediately started in on them about the importance of the O.W.L.s. Snape had taken a total of thirty points from Gryffindor on the first day back because of numerous "deliberate distractions," including a melted cauldron from Neville, a slipped giggle from Lavender when Goyle's pile of fish eyes spilled to the floor, a rather loud sneeze from Dean when he opened his container of Pepper Prenze, and a disregard for the school's dress code on Harry's part- the top button of his collar had slipped undone behind his tie. He'd taken an additional ten when Hermione had stubbornly pointed out that Blaise Zabini's skirt was a good four inches shorter than the outlined required length in the school uniform policy; this had also earned a wadded up piece of parchment with the words, "Kiss my ass, you drippy little know-it-all bitch," aimed at Hermione's head by the aforementioned skirt assailant the second Snape's back was turned. And Hermione who, even a year ago, wouldn't have even dignified the action by reading the note, did the exact opposite. She read it, turned around and glared at Blaise, took out her own quill, scribbled a note back to the original writer, and flung it across to the Slytherins. Of course, Snape turned around at the exact same moment as the parchment went flying and after reading the note, took another twenty points from Hermione. All of the Gryffindors had protested this heatedly since Hermione hadn't even been the original note-passer. Snape had, naturally, turned a sneer toward them and threatened to give them all detentions for the rest of the month if they ever criticized his teaching methods again. Things were better in the other classes, though. Professor Flitwick had given a very pleased Harry and Ron full marks on the homework they'd copied from Hermione. Professor Trelawney had predicted Harry's death by drowning. And Professor Lupin had decided to take a page out of Faux Mad- Eyed Moody's book and continue their lessons on resisting the Imperius Curse. Classes were normal.  
  
Life was not.  
  
Harry spent a good deal of time moping about missing Gia. When he wasn't moping, he was dozing off in class because he spent half the night in the owlery sending her letters; all correspondence had to be done in the middle of the night, so her parents wouldn't get suspicious about a large white owl pecking round their house.  
  
Ron and Hermione were dealing with their own set of problems. News of their relationship had spread to the whole school by the evening feast their first night back. Dean and Seamus had barricaded Ron with a load of questions that he had stubbornly refused to answer, much to Harry's relief, as he really had no desire to know the specific details. Parvati and Lavender had dragged Hermione into the girls' loo on the train and demanded a play by play of the first kiss. Because she was dying to tell someone, Hermione had sworn them to secrecy and spilled. It had felt great to tell someone, and she figured that Parvati and Lavender were her best choice, as out of her three closest friends, one was the subject, one was a direct blood relative of the subject, and other was the subject's best mate. Parvati and Lavender had squealed giddily like proper girlfriends should, and they'd sworn to keep the details within the Fifth Year Gryffindor girls. Both Ron and Hermione had suffered their fair share of taunting from the Slytherins, and Malfoy had managed to catch them up outside of the Great Hall.  
  
He strolled up with a cocky smirk on his face and an arm draped around Pansy Parkinson's waist. The four of them had stood facing each other for a moment- the Slytherins grinning and the Gryffindors narrowing their eyes in suspicion.  
  
Finally, Malfoy spoke. "You better enjoy these Hogwarts feasts, Granger, because Weasley sure won't be able to afford to feed you outside of school."  
  
Ron turned red. "Sod off, Malfoy."  
  
But Malfoy just did his best innocent act. "Bet you couldn't believe your luck, huh, Weasley? She's probably the first thing you've ever gotten that you didn't have to share."  
  
Pansy sniggered, and Hermione grabbed Ron's elbow to stop him from lunging at Malfoy who kept talking.  
  
"Of course, she is second- hand. Spent a good deal of time showing off her knickers for Viktor Krum, didn't she? You don't know, though, Weasley. You probably wouldn't know what to do with something that wasn't a hand-me- down."  
  
Hermione tightened her grasp on Ron but simply smiled politely at Malfoy. "Speaking of knickers," she said airily. "I hear Bridget Vemmingmore is missing a pair. Surely, you haven't seen them, have you?"  
  
Ron burst into laughter, Malfoy's cheeks turned a pale pin, and Pansy's head immediately whipped around, her dark blue eyes widened in silent questioning.  
  
Hermione did her best shocked look. She stared at Malfoy, then turned to Pansy, then back to Malfoy, raising a hand to her mouth in fake embarrassment. "Oh, my God. Pansy doesn't know about your little rendezvous with Miss Vemmingmore, does she? Oh, I'm so sorry!"  
  
Malfoy glared at her, his gray eyes piercing her brown ones. Hermione simply sent him back an exact replica of the cocky little smirk he was so famous for. It was almost as if she was daring him to contradict her or even comment back. Pansy looked absolutely livid and was looking very sharply at her so-called boyfriend's profile.  
  
"You've learned the family trade early, huh, Malfoy?" Ron's eyes danced mischievously. "Screwing around with whoever you can find while the 'official' one sits back and keeps her mouth shut like a good little girl." He glanced at the still completely silent Pansy.  
  
Malfoy seemed to snap out of his momentary shock. "Don't even get me started on your family trade, Weasley." He turned to Hermione. "You better watch out unless you want to end up as Mummy to a litter of redheaded brats and living on Ministry welfare." He flashed her a grin. "You'd have done better if you'd picked Potter- as pitiful as that sounds. At least then you wouldn't be poor. And your kids might have at least a chance in the looks department. They'd be a bit shrimpy, of course, but not completely ugly like they're bound to be if you stick with Weasley." He snorted with amusement. "God, can't you just imagine what your children would look like? Red, bushy hair, freckles, and buck teeth."  
  
"Why don't you save it for someone who cares?" Hermione glared at him, knowing that if she got into yet another fight with him this year, she would probably get more than points taken from her. Draco Malfoy was not worth expulsion.  
  
Malfoy ignored her, though, and kept his attention focused on Ron. "And you don't know shit about my family, Weasley, so don't act like you do."  
  
It was obvious that desecrating the Malfoy name was a definite sore spot, and Ron just couldn't let it pass. "Everyone knows your father fucks anything he can get his hands on. Isn't that the reason your family goes through so many maids?"  
  
"At least we can afford a maid!" Malfoy suddenly shoved Ron roughly, sending the taller boy backwards into the wall. Just as the fight started to brew, though, Pansy suddenly spoke up.  
  
"Stop." She grabbed Malfoy's arm and pulled him back. "Just stop. Let's go."  
  
Surprisingly enough, Malfoy walked away from the fight, sending a glare in the direction of the Gryffindors before he left. Both Ron and Hermione were shocked by the sudden turnabout, but they both knew that it was for the best. Neither of them could afford another fight.  
  
"Do you feel sorry for Pansy?" Ron asked as they each watched the Slytherins' retreating backs.  
  
Hermione wasted no time in answering. "No. She's a bitch. They deserve each other."  
  
Glancing over at the brunette beside him, Ron couldn't help but grin a little. "Yeah," he added absently for no reason at all.  
  
But Malfoy and the Slytherins weren't their biggest problem. By the second week of classes, it was painfully obvious that all of their teachers knew, too. This was especially embarrassing, as a few of their teachers actually pointed it out.  
  
Professor McGonagall had given a rather pointed speech about the inappropriate uses of such items as an Invisibility Cloak. Most of the Gryffindors in the Common Room that night had no idea why she was even making an appearance. But her meaning was quite clear to the intended recipients of the lecture, not to mention their rather sickened best friend who was obviously realizing that maybe he oughtn't share his belongings with his friends any longer.  
  
Professor Lupin hadn't said anything, but he wasn't doing too good of a job at hiding his amusement whenever he saw the two of them with their heads ducked down in quiet conversation or whenever Hermione rushed into his classroom after her Arithmancy lesson and settled in between her best friends with a telling grin to one that she didn't extend to the other.  
  
Of course, Professor Snape was by far the worst. It had been during the fourth lesson of the semester that Snape had made it quite clear that he was well-aware of the blossoming romance between two of his least favorite students. He'd marched pointedly up to the table that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had shared for five years with a wicked little smirk on his face. "And how is the love-fest coming along?" he asked sarcastically. Hermione had smartly kicked Ron under the table to silently inform him that answering back was definitely not the best idea. "Didn't I have to separate the three of you last year because of a torrid little affair?" All three of them glared in response to the reminder of the whole 'Viktor Krum/Hermione Granger/Harry Potter' alleged love triangle from the year before. "Well, we certainly can't have your twisted love lives affecting your work, now can we? Miss Granger, switch chairs with Mr. Malfoy." Every head in the room had whipped around at the commandment. Switching chairs with Malfoy would put him at the same table with Harry and Ron and her at the same table with Pansy and Blaise. Among the students in the classroom at that moment, there were eight girls and ten boys, each of which was feeling somewhat of a mixture of outrage at their professor and of sympathy for the members of their houses being directly affected by this abominable change.  
  
So, no, life wasn't exactly normal.  
  
But it was carrying on anyway, and all three friends were learning to deal with the Christmas holiday's events slowly but surely. Ron and Hermione were both struggling with balancing themselves with Harry, and Harry was slowly coming to terms with his friends' relationship while trying hard not to focus all of his time on missing Gia. Her letters were always anxiously awaited, and, though he would never have admitted this to anyone, he carried them with him in his schoolbag, pulling them out and reading them under his desk during particularly boring (or even not-so-boring) lessons. No one but Ron, Hermione, and the other Weasleys even knew about Gia; Harry had figured that since she wasn't at Hogwarts, nor was she likely to ever be at Hogwarts, no one needed to know about her. It really wasn't anyone's business anyway.  
  
He had bigger problems to worry about anyway.  
  
Problems like trying not to drown in a suddenly overpowering guilt.  
  
After being held over by Professor Sprout because of a forgotten homework assignment, Harry found himself hurrying down the hall trying to make it to Charms on time. He stopped short in the second floor corridor, though, upon hearing the familiar sneering voice of Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Why don't you watch were you're going, Weasley?"  
  
Harry rolled his eyes and turned the corner expecting to see a brewing fight between Ron and Malfoy. What he saw, though, was Malfoy standing nose to nose with Ginny. Apparently, they'd run into each other and were both too stubborn to move.  
  
Ginny glared at the Slytherin. "No, why don't you get over the delusion that you own the hallways and watch where you're going yourself?"  
  
"You're right. It is a delusion." Malfoy sent the same type of rigid glare. "Because in a perfect world, I wouldn't even have to be in the same building with your kind."  
  
Ginny opened her mouth to retort, but Harry beat her to it. "Leave her alone, Malfoy." He walked over and looked warningly at the other boy.  
  
Ginny looked up and turned a slight but familiar shade of pink. Malfoy just smirked.  
  
"What's the matter, Potter? One Weasley dumped you for a Mudblood, so you moved onto his little sister?"  
  
Ginny's blush of embarrassment quickly turned into one of anger. "Don't call Hermione that!" She furiously pushed a lone strand of hair away from her eyes. "She's a hell of a lot smarter than you! Who cares is she's Muggle-born? She could outwit you in a second, and you're just jealous!"  
  
Harry was amazed by the sudden strong resemblance he saw between Ron and Ginny. Malfoy, though, seemed quite amused. He turned to Harry and said, "Your little girlfriend's got quite the mouth on her, doesn't she?"  
  
Harry didn't even bother to comment on the girlfriend remark. He simply rolled his eyes and said, "Just shut up."  
  
But no one ever succeeded at shutting up a Malfoy. "So, what made you go after the baby of the poor bunch?" he retorted airily. "The red-hot temper? The fact that her mum's been feeding you for the past five years? Or..." his eyes glinted mischievously, "the scary resemblance to another woman close to you?"  
  
Harry was confused, and he waited wordlessly for Malfoy's explanation. He didn't have to wait long.  
  
"I think some Muggle psychologist had a theory about it..." he went on thoughtfully. "You know, Potter, I saw a picture of your mother once. It was from before you got her killed, obviously, but she did look an awful lot like this one." He swung his head in Ginny's direction. "Maybe that explains why you like Mudbloods and redheads so much. They remind you of your mum."  
  
The jab at his mother stung painfully, and Harry couldn't come up with a single thing to say. He felt the blood start to pound in his ears and struggled to breathe normally.  
  
Ginny, though, appeared to be having no such troubles. Before any of them could even predict it, she'd grabbed the front of Malfoy's robes and had slammed him backwards into the stone wall. She wasn't much smaller than him, and her brown eyes burned with a heated anger.  
  
"You fucking asshole!" she shouted, obviously not worried at all about getting into trouble for yelling swear words in the hallway when she should actually have been in class. "What right do you have to even mention his parents or anything for that matter?! You're not the bloody prince that you think you are!" She glared at him, still clutching the front of his robes in her tightened fists. "And if you want to talk about people's blood, then talk about mine! Mine is as pure as yours, and I don't go around thinking I'm superior to everyone else!"  
  
Harry watched in silence as Malfoy, making no move to release himself from her grip, glared daggers. "Your blood is nowhere near as pure as mine, you little piece of filth," he spat hatefully. "And the reason you don't go around thinking you're superior to everyone else is because you aren't. You're barely above a sewer rat."  
  
Ginny was silent for a long moment before narrowing her eyes and speaking in a slow, calm voice. "Well, I'd rather be a sewer rat than let my father bully me into becoming his clone."  
  
"Yes," Malfoy sneered. "Good call, Weasley. Who would want to be your father's clone?" It was obvious that he knew exactly what she was talking about, but he wasn't about to let her know that it affected him. With that, he yanked his collar from her fists and straightened up. "And you better watch out, little girl, or you're going to end up exactly like your brother will."  
  
Harry closed his eyes, trying desperately not to hear the rest of the argument. It didn't work.  
  
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Ginny demanded heatedly.  
  
Harry opened his eyes again and saw Malfoy looking directly at him. "You just better watch out," Malfoy warned, never taking his eyes away from Harry's. "You just better all watch out."  
  
"What the hell are you talking about?" Ginny demanded again.  
  
Malfoy finally turned his attention back to her. "Think about it. Your brother. His Mudblood girlfriend. This bastard," he swung his head in Harry's direction. "Just wait." He turned his head once more to Harry and spoke two simple words before stalking away in the opposite direction. "It's over."  
  
Harry watched him go, not knowing what to do or what to say. He was dizzy, and he suddenly had no desire to make it to Charms on time. Or even at all.  
  
"Harry..." Ginny's voice was quiet and nervous, a vast difference from the way she'd just been laying into Malfoy.  
  
Hearing his name drew Harry's attention to his best friend's little sister. She was looking at him timidly, her cheeks rapidly paling. "Don't listen to him," she said softly. "He's just a jerk." Ginny looked away, avoiding his eyes. He was reminded of the little girl who used to knock everything over whenever he was in the room. But she wasn't that little girl anymore. She'd grown up, and he had completely missed it.  
  
Not knowing what else to say, he swallowed and said, "What class are you supposed to be in?"  
  
"Potions," she muttered, still not looking up.  
  
"Snape'll kill you," he answered dully. "You should go."  
  
She shrugged but then nodded wordlessly.  
  
"See you later," he mumbled, having no idea what else to do. Without looking back, he turned and headed off in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. Skiving off of Flitwick's class was the least of his problems. The entire way back through the castle, Harry kept hearing Malfoy's words. The way he'd talked about his mother, the way he'd taunted Ginny. And, of course, his final statement.  
  
'Your brother. His Mudblood girlfriend. This bastard. Just wait... It's over.'  
  
And what if it was? What if this was the end? Harry wasn't so naïve to think that life was just peachy. His Christmas holiday might have given him a momentary escape, but he couldn't run forever.  
  
The prophecy spelled it right out for them.  
  
The time was coming. And quickly. Soon enough, it would turn into kill or be killed.  
  
Gloomily, Harry tried not to notice that his brain immediately favored the latter.  
  
********************************  
  
So, I know a lot happened here, but this is me moving the plot along. Yay!!!  
  
Thanks to everyone who reviews!!!  
  
Oh, yeah. Anyone who is of legal age should DEFINITELY check out Alfonso Cuaron's film, Y Tu Mama Tambien. It is absolutely the most brilliant piece of film I've ever seen. By the time the movie ends, you'll be so dumbfounded that you won't even care that you've spent the last two hours watching nothing but naked people. Though, I am a bit scared for the future of the Harry Potter films... ( 


	53. The Things That Never Change

A/N: Thank you, thank you, thank you! Muah!  
  
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, and I'm thankful to say that Ms. Rowling apparently still loves them. (I was getting worried).  
  
****************************************  
  
"Do you know what's wrong with Harry?" Hermione glanced up from her Transfiguration homework as she finally asked the question that had been bothering her for a few days now.  
  
Ron, who was supposedly working on the same assignment, quickly moved his arm to hide the doodle he was drawing of a Quidditch field. He looked up with slightly widened eyes. "Huh? Harry?"  
  
Hermione was quiet for a moment before rolling her own eyes slightly. "Yes, Harry. Do you know what's wrong with him? He's not himself."  
  
"He misses Gia," Ron said with a shrug. "He's just moping because of that."  
  
Pursing her lips slightly, she shook her head. "No. I don't think that's it. He's being even more sullen than usual."  
  
Ron shrugged again. "It's nothing, I'm sure. He's just in his own little world these days."  
  
Hermione looked toward the stairs where Harry had ascended about an hour earlier, claiming that he was tired and needed a nap. She wanted to say something else but decided against it. Instead, she glanced back at her Transfiguration book and frowned. "I'm bored."  
  
Looking up with a bright smile, Ron jumped at the opportunity to distract her from her homework. "Really? Me, too!"  
  
Hermione looked like she was fighting back a grin, and she raised a single eyebrow in question. "Oh, really? I would have thought that designing your own personal Quidditch field would be simply exhilarating."  
  
Ron turned a sheepish shade of red and glanced down at the work he'd tried to cover. "Well, excuse me for finding Quidditch more amusing than the proper preparation for turning a worm into a book."  
  
Rolling her eyes, Hermione couldn't help the laugh. "Okay, even I'll admit that it is rather boring."  
  
"So!" Ron said brightly, not believing that she'd actually called a lesson boring. "Do you want to do something else? We could go visit the House- Elves. Maybe they need liberating."  
  
She didn't buy this for a second, of course. "It's not my fault you slept through breakfast," she said haughtily. "You'll just have to wait until lunch because it's not fair to go down there and nick food from them."  
  
"We don't have to nick it," he answered back defensively. "They enjoy giving it away."  
  
"Well, it isn't polite to bother them when that's your only intent," she said smoothly. "If you want to visit them and, I don't know, discuss the importance of resisting authority, then, yes, I will join you."  
  
Ron sighed and looked away. "I'll wait for lunch."  
  
It was a Saturday morning, and the Common Room was unusually crowded. This was surprising, as it was the first weekend without snow and the temperature, while warm by no means, was not totally freezing. But apparently a lot of professors had assigned extra work to get the students back into the swing of things post-holiday, and students were studying all over the Common Room.  
  
Hermione glanced at everyone else working diligently and thought about how irresponsible of her it would be to put off her homework. Then she saw Ron looking at his textbook with a bewildered look of boredom that was simply beyond pitiful, and she finally gave in. With a sigh, she closed her book and looked at him expectantly.  
  
"Any ideas besides the House-Elves?"  
  
"I wish it was a Hogsmeade weekend."  
  
"It's not," she said, wishing the same.  
  
Ron looked around as if the Common Room was going to present him with a splendid idea to cure their boredom. And strangely, it did. "We could go for a walk," he suggested, looking toward the high tower windows. "It's sunny outside- no rain, no snow. Maybe we could visit Hagrid."  
  
Hagrid had returned from his mission with the giants in the middle of the last semester. Apparently, it hadn't gone well, but he had made quite a bit of progress in the area of his love life. He seemed quite happy whenever he was discussing a certain Beauxbatons Headmistress. Of course, they hadn't really been visiting him as much this year as they normally had, and while they always swore to visit again soon, they rarely did. Most of their visits consisted of Care of Magical Creatures lessons, which had been reduced to bi-weekly in order to leave more room for regular Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons.  
  
Hermione nodded, thinking that visiting Hagrid was a brilliant idea. "Yes, let's do that," she said briskly, standing up and placing all of her supplies into her bag.  
  
They both hurried up to their respective dormitories to drop off their load of books and pick up their cloaks. It was still too cold for a simple jacket. Ron glanced at Harry's bed when he entered the circular room and saw that his best friend had the curtains pulled closed around the four poster.  
  
"Harry?" he called quietly; he figured that a trip to visit Hagrid might pull Harry out of his current mood. But when he carefully pulled back to the curtains, he saw that Harry was lying face down on the pillow, presumably either asleep or pretending to be asleep; his glasses were on the nightstand next to the bed.  
  
Sighing, Ron closed the curtains again and returned downstairs to meet Hermione. She was waiting for him in the Common Room, her cloak folded neatly in her arms.  
  
"Was Harry awake?" she asked, seemingly reading his mind.  
  
Ron shook his head, not bothering to mention that he had a strong suspicion that Harry was faking his nap. "No, I checked."  
  
She frowned and shrugged. "Oh, well. You ready?"  
  
He nodded, following her out of the portrait hole.  
  
"You're going to freeze," he noted pointedly as they made their way through the long halls of the castle. She was dressed in a dark gray sweater, a knee-length black skirt, and gray tights despite the fact that it was a Saturday.  
  
"I didn't have any clean jeans," she said, shrugging. "And anyway, Hagrid has a fireplace."  
  
"Couldn't you borrow jeans from someone?"  
  
She rolled her eyes. "Lavender's taller than me, and Parvati's butt is bigger than mine. We can't share bottoms."  
  
Ron laughed and absently kicked a wadded up piece of parchment in front of him. They carried on with lazy, mindless conversation until they reached the first landing of the castle. A group of Ravenclaws Fifth Years were sitting around the entrance hall studying Arithmancy. They all smiled when Ron and Hermione passed by, and Terry Boot asked her if she wanted to study with them. She was terribly tempted, but she just smiled politely and said, "No, thank you."  
  
"They probably want to copy from you anyway," Ron whispered in her ear as they exited the castle and walked down the stairs to the front lawn.  
  
Hermione just rolled her eyes again. "No, they're very smart, you know."  
  
"Padma Patil is smart?" he asked in slight amusement.  
  
But Hermione nodded. "Yes, she really is. She's actually got the third highest average in the year."  
  
Ron wanted to tease her about the fact that she actually knew the class standings, but he was somewhat intrigued. "Well, obviously, you're top of the class. Who's second?"  
  
"Malfoy."  
  
Ron nearly choked.  
  
"Malfoy?! As in Draco Malfoy?"  
  
"No, his twin sister," Hermione said sarcastically. Then, looking over at Ron, she said, "Oh, come on. Don't tell me you didn't know he was smart."  
  
"I knew he was a smartass." Ron was extremely put-out by this new revelation.  
  
"Ron, he's been second since our first year." She couldn't believe that this was such a surprise. "He even beat me in Potions third year."  
  
"Perhaps he wasn't taking twelve subjects."  
  
"Oh, shut up," she said, shoving him with her shoulder. She smiled despite herself.  
  
"It's getting colder," Ron commented, pulling his cloak around him as Hermione did the same. He really wasn't in the mood to continue the discussion of Malfoy's intelligence level. He was a bit upset that Malfoy even had a brain- let alone a good one; he was soothed slightly, though, by the fact that at least he wasn't the worst in the year. There was always Neville, and he was fairly sure that ninety percent of the Hufflepuffs were rather thick. Oh, yeah. And Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
Hermione finished the clasp on her cloak and dropped her hand easily into Ron's. He sent her a grin as he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. It wasn't often that they got any time like this, any alone time just for the two of them. It was nice.  
  
They walked in silence for a little while, carefully and inconspicuously scooting closer together with each step until Hermione was actually in front of Ron, and his arms were wrapped around her waist, his hands clasping both of her own.  
  
"You changed your shampoo," he said out of nowhere, breaking the peaceful silence.  
  
She stopped walking and turned around in his arms, a strange look on her face. "How did you know?" she asked, wrinkling her nose up just a little.  
  
"Because it smells different."  
  
Hermione didn't do too good of a job of hiding the pleased look that covered her face as she beamed over the fact that he had apparently made such a habit out of smelling her hair that he had the scent memorized. "It's cranberry," she said quietly.  
  
"What happened to the lemon and coconut thing?"  
  
Hermione wanted to kiss him so badly that she actually found the intensity of the urge indecent.  
  
"I ran out of it," she said quietly. "So, I used Parvati's."  
  
"It smells nice." He smiled at her again and found her hand with his own. "Come on. I'm starting to freeze!"  
  
He took off, and Hermione ran a few steps to keep up with him, though it really wasn't all that hard, as he was dragging her behind him. When they reached the sloping ground in front of Hagrid's cabin, they slowed down a bit so as not to slip and go sliding.  
  
Just as they started up the three short stairs leading to his house, though, the front door opened and startled them both. They both visibly jumped and were met with a rather low chuckle.  
  
"I would think your startle reflexes would be more advanced than that," mused Professor Remus Lupin. He waited at the door for them; he'd obviously been on his way out but had changed his mind upon seeing the visitors.  
  
"Professor Lupin," Hermione said a bit breathlessly, casually letting go of Ron's hand and pretending that she didn't see the amused smirk cross her teacher's face. "We weren't expecting to see you here."  
  
"Nor was I expecting to see the two of you," he mused, holding the door open and letting them into the small cottage. "Hagrid's just left for the village, and I was just on my way back to the castle."  
  
"Hagrid's not here?" Ron asked, peering around the familiar settings and seeing the still barely burning fire that he'd obviously used the Floo through.  
  
Professor Lupin shook his head and motioned for them to sit down. "But you two look like you're turning into Popsicles, so perhaps you should warm up a bit before going back."  
  
They took seats next to each other on one of Hagrid's over-sized ottomans, and Lupin sat across from them on the window ledge, glancing out at the grounds as he did so.  
  
"Isn't Harry with you?" he asked, turning back to face the pair of fifth years.  
  
"He's asleep," Ron said carefully, remembering his suspicion that Harry was simply faking his tiredness.  
  
"Asleep?" Lupin shook his head. "It's nearly noon. Shouldn't someone wake him up?"  
  
"Oh, he's been up," Hermione said, undoing the clasp on her cloak and turning around to smooth it down behind her. "But he was tired and wanted a nap."  
  
Lupin pursed his lips for a second but then shook his head and smiled at them. "Well, actually, I've been meaning to catch you two alone anyway."  
  
Both Ron and Hermione had identical thoughts of how mortifying it would be if Lupin were to question the going-ons between them. Luckily, however, this wasn't his intent.  
  
"I was wondering how Harry's doing. He's been rather sullen lately."  
  
Hermione bit her tongue to keep from saying that he'd been sullen for a year now. Instead, she forced a smile on her face and said, "He's just tired. The O.W.L.s, you know..."  
  
"And Quidditch," Ron supplied to the grateful half-glance of Hermione. "He's busy."  
  
"Yes, I imagine he is," Lupin said thoughtfully. "It must be terribly hard what with him up at all hours of the night and all."  
  
Ron and Hermione exchanged a puzzled glance, neither of them knowing just how much to reveal nor how to get out of their teacher how much he already knew.  
  
Ron took the initiative and made a go at it. "Um, what do you mean, Professor?" Perhaps subtlety was overrated; there was nothing like just coming right out and asking.  
  
"I'm just curious as to why he's made the owlery his sudden sanctuary. Not too many students visit it in the middle of the night." Lupin leaned back slightly against the window and surveyed his students.  
  
"Uh," Ron thought quickly, "Exactly. It's always so crowded during the day, you know. It's hard to get a letter mailed out of there without having to fight half the school."  
  
Hermione nodded in agreement.  
  
Lupin frowned just slightly. "Well, I certainly hope that whoever he's writing to is worth the inevitable drop in his marks that will occur if he continues to fall asleep in all of his classes."  
  
"But he hasn't even fallen asleep in your class," Ron protested earnestly, feeling the need to defend his friend. And it was true anyway. Harry hadn't fallen asleep in Defense Against the Dark Arts since Quirrell had been in charge of the class. It had been impossible to sleep through Lockhart's maddening lectures about his hair care product line. No one had even wanted to sleep through Lupin's class in third year. Falling asleep in the fake Mad-Eyed Moody's class could have proved quite devastating to the offender unless they fancied being transfigured into small rodents. And Lupin was, if possible, even more interesting this year than he'd been before.  
  
Some classes were easy to catch a quick nap in. History of Magic, for example. Professor Binns never even paid attention to whether or not his class was even alive. Divination was another easy class to doze off in, as Professor Trelawney actually praised students for resting their Inner Eyes. Charms was a tossup. On some days, it was quite simple to fall asleep, but on the days when Professor Flitwick brought out his stack of thick textbooks and was able to survey the class properly, he didn't allow napping.  
  
Other classes, though, were absolutely not for sleeping. Transfiguration for one. Professor McGonagall was perhaps the fairest teacher in the school when it came to being non-biased towards her students, and being in Gryffindor wouldn't help at all if she caught someone sleeping through her lecture. They were due a detention and a deduction of House points without fail. And someone would have to be absolutely mental to try and nap through Potions. Seamus had tried it once in second year, and none of his classmates would soon forget the way Snape had yanked him up by the ear and dragged him to the front of the classroom where he was ordered to stand and list off the twelve uses of dragon blood. Letter. By. Letter.  
  
But to Ron's protest, Lupin simply smiled faintly. "I know he hasn't. And if he ever does, it better be because Voldemort himself had knocked in the middle of the night and asked for a game of Quidditch." Ron and Hermione glanced at each other with lifted smiles. Lupin laughed briefly and went on. "But I've checked, and his grades are dropping overall. This isn't good, obviously. Learning as much as possible is extremely important. Especially now."  
  
"I try to get him to study all the time," Hermione said earnestly. "But he won't listen to me." Ron rolled his eyes, and Lupin smirked slightly.  
  
"Well, you tell him that if all of us had to sit through seven years of Binns, he bloody well better do the same." He looked from one to the other. "If he doesn't stop skiving off so much, he's going to regret it.  
  
Even Ron wouldn't argue with this fact. In the past week, Harry had skipped all three History of Magic lectures, one Charms class, and one Divination lesson. He'd claimed to not be feeling well, but he'd also refused to visit Madame Pomfrey for any medicine.  
  
"Now then." The professor sat up brightly. "Next Saturday is a Hogsmeade weekend, right?"  
  
Hermione thought it over quickly in her mind and realized that she hadn't even noticed that it was already time for their monthly Hogsmeade visit. She nodded, though, her mind wandering to all the things she needed to pick up. She came back to reality, though, when Lupin spoke again.  
  
"Right. Well, I've spoken to Sirius, and he said he's going to make it up here by then. It's been awhile since the last time you all saw each other, hasn't it?"  
  
Ron nodded, his face already looking excited for the prospective visit from their favorite dog. "We haven't seen him since June."  
  
The mention of June set a brief, uneasy tension over the room, but it disappeared when Lupin grinned. "Well, just make sure that Harry actually drags himself out of the dormitory for the day, okay? He said he'll be writing with the exact meeting instructions, but he'll definitely be there."  
  
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A cup of tea later, Ron and Hermione were walking back towards the castle by themselves. Professor Lupin had suddenly remembered something he had to speak to Madame Sprout about and had excused himself. Ron seemed quite lifted, but Hermione was rather distracted. Ron finally gave up and just asked her what was wrong.  
  
She sighed distractedly and said, "You don't reckon Harry will get in trouble, do you?"  
  
Looking sideways at her, Ron raised his eyebrows in confusion. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, what if Professor Lupin tells Sirius that Harry's grades are dropping and that he's skipping class a lot and all that?"  
  
Ron shrugged. "So what if he does? Do you think Sirius will really care?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course he'll care! That's his godson, isn't it? He's got to feel some sort of responsibility toward him."  
  
Ron rolled his own eyes. "And what's Sirius gonna do anyway? Ground him?"  
  
She raised her shoulders slightly. "Maybe."  
  
"Get real, Hermione."  
  
"Well, think about it," Hermione said stubbornly. "If things hadn't gone wrong three years ago, Harry would be living with Sirius."  
  
"Yeah, and if things hadn't gone wrong fourteen years ago, Harry would be living with his parents." Ron shook his head. "But that's not the case, is it?"  
  
Hermione looked extremely putout by the whole situation, and she pulled her cloak tighter around her. "I just don't want him to get in trouble," she said rather quietly. "That's all."  
  
"He's not going to," Ron said with a long overdue sigh. "Lupin probably won't even mention it. And if he does, Sirius won't do anything except tell him to study harder. It's a few grades slightly lower than what he normally gets. It's not like he robbed Gringotts or something."  
  
She gave her own sigh and nodded slightly. "Okay," she said finally. "And maybe seeing Sirius will get him out of his mood."  
  
"Of course it will," Ron said assuredly. "He'll be thrilled."  
  
When they reached the Gryffindor Common Room a few minutes later, most of the students were on their way down to the Great Hall for lunch. Harry was just coming down the stairs from the boys' dormitory when his best friends stepped through the portrait hole.  
  
"Feel better?" Hermione asked brightly, giving him a friendly smile as they stepped closer to each other.  
  
Harry nodded vaguely; he looked a bit disoriented. "Where've you guys been?"  
  
"We went to visit Hagrid."  
  
"Really?" Harry actually looked interested; maybe he hadn't been faking his nap. "How is he?"  
  
"He wasn't there," Ron said shrugging. "He had to go get something from the village- you know, probably our next lesson." He put verbal quotation marks around the word 'lesson.' Harry cracked a smile, and Hermione rolled her eyes. "But Professor Lupin was down there at his cottage."  
  
"Why?" Harry looked genuinely confused.  
  
Ron shrugged. "He'd been talking to Hagrid. But he invited us in for tea."  
  
"How generous of him to offer tea in someone else's home," Harry said sarcastically, though it wasn't meanly natured.  
  
"Well, it tasted a hell of a lot better than the tea we normally get in that house," Ron said adamantly. All three of them laughed.  
  
"Well, what did he want?" Harry asked curiously.  
  
"He said to tell you to start studying more and to quit skipping class," Hermione said shortly. Harry just looked at her; Ron rolled his eyes.  
  
"And he said to make sure you come to Hogsmeade next weekend." Ron grinned. "Snuffles is going to be there."  
  
"Really?" Harry's green eyes lit up almost immediately. He glanced around to make sure that no one was listening in on their conversation. "He talked to him?"  
  
Ron nodded. "Yeah, he said he'll tell us exactly what time and where and all of that later in the week."  
  
"Cool," Harry said with the most genuine expression he'd used lately. "Wish I'd gone with you down there."  
  
Ron shrugged. "Well, I called your name, but you were asleep. I figured you probably didn't want me to wake you up."  
  
Harry nodded, understanding. And Hermione looked at him with concern etched all over her face. "Are you okay, Harry? You sure you don't want to go see Madame Pomfrey?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, I'm fine." Looking at Ron, he said, "Bet you're starving, huh? You missed breakfast."  
  
Ron nodded. "Yeah, and Hermione forbid me from bothering her best friends the House-Elves."  
  
Snickering, Harry rolled his eyes. "Let's go to lunch."  
  
He and Ron walked toward the portrait hole together, laughing and making smart-aleck comments about 'spew.' Hermione watched them from behind before hurrying to catch them up.  
  
"It's S.P.E.W.," she said haughtily, breaking in between them and bumping each of them with her shoulders. "And you'd know that if either of you ever bothered to hold up your commitment as officers."  
  
Ron and Harry exchanged a grin over her head.  
  
Some things never changed.  
  
********************************  
  
So, there's the next part.  
  
Just one thing to say.  
  
JUNE 21st!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Need I say more?  
  
Oh, yeah! Please review! 


	54. A Bond Like That

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has been waiting so patiently for this chapter!  
  
Disclaimer: They're still not mine and probably never will be...  
  
******************************  
  
"Now concentrate on your partner's thoughts, look deeply into their eyes, and clear your own mind to receive theirs."  
  
Professor Trelawney dropped lazily onto one of the large poufs in the front of her room, sighing as she surveyed her students. It was the first day of their mind-reading section, and six students had paired themselves off, leaving one oddball. Professor Trelawney had graciously offered to partner Neville, who was looking quite terrified at the prospect of having his undoubtedly rotten and terrified future predicted, even if they weren't trying to see oncoming events in this lesson. She motioned for him to join her on the pouf, and he went reluctantly.  
  
The other six students were scattered across the room in pairs. Parvati and Lavender were, of course, at the front of the room on two poufs of their own. They were sitting on their knees facing toward each other and gazing at each other in such an intense way that, had Harry not known better, would have made him think that they were about to engage in a passionate kiss. Dean and Seamus had taken it upon themselves to sit on top of one of the few desks Trelawney had in her room. They were cross- legged, facing each other, and both quite obviously taking the assignment much more lightly than the girls. Seamus had his hands on Dean's forehead, massaging his temples, and making a rather loud humming sound as they rocked back and forth together, both struggling to keep straight faces.  
  
Harry was sitting at one of the back tables with Ron. They, of course, were taking the assignment no more seriously than their roommates.  
  
"Take off your glasses. I can't see your eyes properly," Ron said jokingly as he reached over and pulled the glasses from his best friend's face.  
  
"Well, now I can't see anything properly," Harry said pointedly, grabbing them back and sliding them back into place. "And besides," he said smoothly, "I'm not sure that I want to know what you're thinking."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes, and Dean pulled away from Seamus and jumped off the table to join Harry and Ron. He stood behind Ron and placed his hands on either side of his head.  
  
"Hmm..." he said mystically. "I see a girl... Brown hair... Brown eyes..." Seamus had joined the table and was now snickering loudly with Harry who was even able to find humor in the situation. "And what's this?" Dean closed his eyes as if concentrating very hard. "Oh... It's a book. The girl has a book..."  
  
Ron shrugged him off and glared at the other three boys who all seemed to be quite amused by the little display. "You can all go to hell," he said airily. This only caused them to laugh even louder.  
  
"Is there a problem, boys?" Professor Trelawney looked away from Neville who still appeared beyond terrified. Parvati and Lavender turned around with looks on their faces that showed they absolutely did not appreciate having their concentration broken.  
  
Dean, Seamus, Harry, and Ron all tried to quiet down, but it was useless. Trying to be solemn only made the situation seem even funnier, and they were laughing again before Trelawney even stood up and joined them.  
  
"I don't remember assigning a group project," she said pointedly.  
  
Seamus grinned at her and said, "Well, we'd all mastered the partner mind reading, so we wondered if we could conquer it in a group of four." His roommates were all trying desperately to hold back their laughs.  
  
"Oh, really?" Professor Trelawney studied them from behind her horn-rimmed glasses. "Well, if you've already mastered it, then, by all means, I'd appreciate a demonstration."  
  
Seamus nodded and looked very intently at Dean, who was pinching himself in order to keep a straight face. "He's thinking... He's just thinking about how much he enjoys this class. And... He's thinking about how beautiful you are, Professor Trelawney."  
  
Dean looked beyond disgusted. Harry and Ron immediately turned their backs on the room and covered their mouths tightly. Seamus just beamed.  
  
"Is this correct, Mr. Thomas?" she asked, her voice softened three-fold.  
  
Dean sent a warning look at his best friend before turning to the teacher and nodding sweetly. "Yes, exactly, Professor Trelawney."  
  
"Twenty-five points to Gryffindor!" she announced brightly. Then she clarified her award by saying, "For the quick mastery of a very difficult skill. Good job, boys!"  
  
She turned and made her way back to Neville, who had been watching the whole display in his own amusement. The second her back was turned, Dean slugged Seamus rather hard across the shoulder, causing the Irish boy to grab his arm and say, "Ow!" before erupting into laughter. Harry and Ron couldn't control their own laughter, either, and before long, all four of them were snickering once again.  
  
The rest of the class went on like that, and when Professor Trelawney dismissed them for their next lesson, all of the boys were still bursting out with random bouts of sniggering.  
  
Lavender rounded on them as the group made their way to Defense Against the Dark Arts. "You all ought to be ashamed of yourselves!" she admonished seriously. "Professor Trelawney is a seasoned professional, and you shouldn't be having her on like that."  
  
"If she's such a seasoned professional," Ron said with raised eyebrows, "then wouldn't she know if someone was having her on?"  
  
Parvati turned around then and glared at him. "Oh, you be quiet, Ron," she verbally italicized his name to add emphasis to her disgust.  
  
"So sorry, Parvati," he said back in the same accented way. The guys all started laughing again.  
  
"I'll be glad when you all finally grow up," she continued icily.  
  
"And I'll be glad when you finally shut up," Dean said between hiccupped laughter.  
  
Parvati turned her glare on Dean then. "You should be nice to me," she said pointedly. "I have a lot of influence on my sister."  
  
Lavender nodded in agreement and linked arms with her best friend. The two of them sent disapproving looks at their male housemates once more before turning and walking off haughtily.  
  
All five of the Gryffindor boys watched with varying degrees of appreciation as the girls stalked away, their hips swinging rather nicely under their skirts.  
  
"Well, they're officially put off with us," Seamus said, sighing in a way that indicated he really didn't care too much.  
  
"No more Lavender for you," Dean said with a roll of the eyes. "Such a pity, too. She's so interesting."  
  
"She is," Seamus said seriously. "Quite interesting... She does some very... intelligent... things with her mouth."  
  
All five of them snickered at the expense of their female housemates. It was Seamus who continued the conversation. "At least if they want to war, it's six against two."  
  
"I only count five," Harry said, glancing around at his roommates.  
  
"You've forgotten Hermione," Seamus said pointedly.  
  
"Last time I checked," Ron said just as pointedly, "Hermione was a girl."  
  
"So, you've been checking, have you?" Dean shoved Ron playfully. Seamus burst into laughter, and even Harry found a smile playing on his lips.  
  
"Shut up." Ron rolled his eyes.  
  
"And anyway," Seamus went on, calming down from his laughing fit. "I would hope that Hermione likes you two better than those two," he said nodding first at Harry and Ron and them motioning forward at the girls' rapidly retreating backs.  
  
"She does like them," Ron said seriously. "Apparently they've become quite good friends all of a sudden."  
  
"And I thought Hermione was so smart..." Dean shook his head in disbelief.  
  
When they reached Defense Against the Dark Arts, Professor Lupin was already waiting inside the classroom for them. He looked up when the class filed in and grinned at them. "How was Divination?" he asked good- naturedly.  
  
"Fantastic!" Seamus exclaimed. "I got us twenty-five house points."  
  
"Yes, for lying," Lavender said with a look of disgust.  
  
Seamus blew her an air kiss across the room, which only caused her rage to show even more prominently on her face.  
  
Lupin rolled his eyes as the boys all found this little display quite amusing and ended up laughing again for the millionth time that afternoon.  
  
"You lot certainly seem to be in a good mood," he observed, standing up from his desk and going over to a table that was covered in graded assignments.  
  
"Well, you know how it is," Ron said, snickering. "Dean put us in this mood when he confessed his love for Professor Trelawney."  
  
More laughter ensued, and Dean threw a quill at Ron's head. The bewildered expression covering the teacher's face did not fade.  
  
The door opened again, and the last member of the class hurried in. Hermione looked, as she always did when entering this classroom, quite breathless and tired from her long hike across the castle where her Arithmancy class was held. She started to head to her normal place at the table with her best friends, but she stopped when Parvati called her name. She and Lavender were waving her over, and, with a very confused look, Hermione made her way over and joined them, sitting down at their table and turning toward them for an explanation.  
  
All five of the boys' mouths dropped open immediately.  
  
The professor snickered.  
  
"Let's begin, shall we?" he asked, breaking the stunned silence. "Does someone want to hand back these papers?" he asked, motioning to the pile of work on the table. Neville and Seamus stood up and volunteered, splitting the stack between them and getting to work handing back the assignments.  
  
Five minutes later, Harry had six grades in his possession, not one of which was the least bit impressive. The sullen look on Ron's face at least lifted his spirits somewhat; he wasn't the only one displeased with their marks. Hermione, on the other hand, looked quite content with her own, and when she turned questioningly in their direction, both boys sent her a rather rude look. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the other girls, who were whispering to her intently as the last of the papers were being distributed.  
  
That day's lesson was interesting to say the very least.  
  
Professor Lupin put them each under the Imperius Curse one at a time, and everyone quite enjoyed watching their classmates try to fight it off. Hermione had gotten rather good at resisting it, and she only gave one tiny hop when she was instructed to reenact a number from the Russian ballet. Neville recited the alphabet in Greek- forwards and backwards. And Parvati came incredibly close to cutting off her waist-length plait, but Lavender had jumped up and loudly demanded that someone stop her, so Professor Lupin had snatched the scissors away at the last minute.  
  
After the class was dismissed and everyone was started making their way for the door, Hermione finally joined the boys, snatching up the graded papers they were about to pack into their bags and tsking pointedly.  
  
Ron snatched the papers back just as quickly and thrust Harry's back to their owner. "Don't be so nosy," he said seriously.  
  
Hermione looked as if she was about to retort with something snide, but she was interrupted as Lupin called their attention. Three heads turned in his direction, and he glanced around to make sure that all of the other students had filed out.  
  
"How does the Shrieking Shack at one o'clock sound?" He was obviously being careful not to mention any names or anything like that, as you could never be too sure who was listening in a place like Hogwarts.  
  
Harry nodded, already quite excited about the prospect of seeing his godfather for the first time in seven months. "Do you know how long he'll get to stay?"  
  
Lupin shook his head. "I expect as long as he can."  
  
"Will you be there, too, Professor?" Hermione asked, slinging her bag across her chest.  
  
But he shook his head again, this time looking rather sorry. "No. There has to be a certain number of teachers in both Hogsmeade and at Hogwarts, and tomorrow, I have to stay here."  
  
Harry wanted to feel bad that his teacher wasn't getting the opportunity to see his one of his old best friends, but a tiny selfish part of Harry realized that without Lupin, more of Sirius's attention would be placed on his godson.  
  
After saying goodbye to their professor, Harry, Ron, and Hermione started their journey back through the castle toward Gryffindor Tower. They were making mindless small talk until Hermione, after minutes of seeming distant and distracted, finally sighed loudly enough to draw both boys' attention.  
  
"What's up with you?" Ron asked, peering at her strangely.  
  
Hermione glanced at the wall to her side as they continued to walk. After a moment in which both boys waited for her reply, she finally said, "I just have a really bad feeling."  
  
"Hermione, the Potions test isn't until Tuesday. It's the weekend!" Ron rolled his eyes slightly in Harry's direction.  
  
Hermione, however, just shook her head. "No. I mean I have a bad feeling about tomorrow. I just feel like something really horrible is going to happen."  
  
"Like what?" Harry looked at her, not ready to fully believe her but at least curious as to what she thought she was feeling.  
  
"I don't know," she said quietly. "But maybe we shouldn't meet up with Sirius tomorrow."  
  
"Hermione, you worry too much." Ron looked expectantly at Harry for some back-up.  
  
He got it when Harry nodded. "Yeah. It's probably nothing. Maybe you're just hungry."  
  
As soon as he'd said the words, he realized how stupid they sounded, but Ron seemed to think hunger was a perfectly logical explanation.  
  
"Yeah. Dinner's in a couple of hours. I'm sure you'll feel better then."  
  
"I'm not hungry," she said insistently. "I don't know what it is, but it's just weird."  
  
Nothing else was spoken of Hermione's feeling. Ron and Harry both brushed it off as typical Hermione behavior, and she seemed a bit embarrassed by it anyway.  
  
***************************** After sending a letter to Gia, Harry reentered the Common Room late Friday night and stopped immediately in his tracks. Ginny Weasley was sitting on the floor, slumped against the back of the sofa; she had her knees drawn to her chest, and she was staring blankly into space. No one else was in sight.  
  
"Ginny?" he asked cautiously as he set the Cloak down onto a table and walked over to the sofa. "Are you okay?"  
  
Growing apprehensive when she gave no sign of even hearing him, Harry knelt down in front of her and placed a slightly shaking hand on her shoulder. "Ginny?"  
  
Almost instantly upon his touch, Ginny started and seemed to wake up. Her eyes were unfocused, and a weak, "Harry?" was the only sign that she had come back to reality.  
  
"What's wrong?" Harry ducked his head slightly in an attempt to bring himself into her eye-line. She didn't appear to be able to give an answer, and she closed her eyes briefly, all traces of color draining from her already pale cheeks. "Ginny?"  
  
And then it was back to her earlier state. Her eyes fluttered open, but they stared aimlessly at something in front of her. Harry glanced around, wondering if he should go get help but also afraid to leave her. He noticed that Ginny was suddenly looking incredibly small and very much like the little girl she had been when he'd first met her, and something incredibly protective triggered in him.  
  
Harry placed his arms under Ginny's and carefully stood up, pulling her into a standing position and struggling slightly under her weight. "Can you hear me?" he asked quietly, leaning against the back of the sofa for support. When she gave no attempt at an answer, Harry tried moving her around to the front of the sofa. It was hard maneuvering with Ginny a complete dead-weight in his arms, but he finally managed to move them enough so that he could set Ginny down on the sofa and lean her against the armrest.  
  
It wasn't the first time he'd had a lifeless Ginny in his arms. Memories from his second year floated back into his mind, and he was reminded strongly of the way he'd struggled to lift Ginny from the floor of the Chamber of Secrets. It had been one of the most terrifying moments of his life, walking into the darkness of the Chamber and thinking for a few horrifying moments that he had been too late and had let his best friend's little sister die.  
  
"Ginny," he shook her gently. "Wake up. Come on, Ginny. Please."  
  
Her eyes fluttered open once again, and huge pools of brown stared back at him as though in a haze. She stared at him, obviously lost in confusion, for a long moment.  
  
And then she started to cry.  
  
Harry had absolutely no idea what in the world to do with a crying girl. The only girls he really had any relation to were Hermione, obviously, and Gia. Ron always seemed to be better at handling Hermione when she was upset, and even though Gia had cried a few times in front of him, he'd always felt so strongly connected to her that taking care of her tears had seemed to come naturally.  
  
Nervously, Harry reached out and placed what he hoped was a comforting hand against Ginny's shoulder. He wasn't even sure if he was allowed to touch her at all. Was it okay to comfort someone who wasn't your girlfriend and also happened to be your best friend's only sister? Obviously it was because Ginny didn't push him away or duck away from his touch. If anything, though, she seemed to cry even harder.  
  
"Are you okay?" he asked shakily, having no idea what else to do.  
  
She didn't answer him, just drew in deep, wavering breaths mixed with the hiccups of her tears.  
  
Not wanting to leave her alone but definitely not wanting to be the one left to take care of her, Harry asked her if she wanted him to do anything.  
  
"Will you get my brother?" she asked in a tiny, tiny voice that Harry could barely hear.  
  
"Which one?" Harry pushed a stray strand of red away from her face without even thinking about it.  
  
"Ron!" she said suddenly. "Please don't tell Fred and George!" Her eyes were wide and panicked, and Harry wondered why she was so frightened by the prospect of having the twins know.  
  
But he nodded nonetheless. "I won't," he whispered.  
  
She looked relieved for a second but started crying again right away.  
  
Harry watched her for only a split second before standing up from the sofa. "Just stay here," he told her quietly. "And I'll go get Ron."  
  
She nodded but didn't reply.  
  
Harry raced up the stairs to the Fifth Year boys' dormitory and entered the room without bothering to be quiet. All of his roommates were asleep, but he was concerned with only one of them.  
  
"Ron!" He pulled back the half-closed curtains around his best friend's bed and reached down to shake him awake. "Ron, get up."  
  
Ron mumbled something incoherent and rolled over without waking up.  
  
Harry groaned in exasperation and shook him harder. "Ron, wake up! Something's wrong with Ginny!"  
  
This was all it took.  
  
Ron sat up immediately, suddenly wide-awake. He looked up at his best friend with the same panicked look that Ginny had just given him. "What's wrong with her?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "I don't know. I found her in the Common Room, and it was like she was in some sort of trance or something. And then she woke up and just started crying!"  
  
Ron didn't wait to hear anymore, and without bothering to even attempt quietness, he ran from the dormitory and headed for the stairs.  
  
Harry raced after him, but stopped at the bottom of the stairway and watched from across the room as Ron rushed to his sister and dropped onto the couch beside her. She immediately started crying even harder as she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed into his shoulder. Ron, looking thoroughly terrified himself, gently ran a hand down her tangled hair and turned his head to gaze at her. "Shh..." he soothed quietly. "Ginny, what happened?"  
  
She just shook her head and continued to cry, never lifting her face from its place against the front of his shirt.  
  
Ron waited for a few moments, obviously trying to give her time to calm down. However, when she gave no sign of coming anywhere close to calming down, he pulled away from her slightly, holding her shoulders in his hands and forcing her to look at him. "What is wrong?" he asked again, accenting each word separately.  
  
Harry watched the exchange silently, unaware if Ron knew he'd followed him downstairs or not. He wasn't about to join them, though, because he had a very strong suspicion that whatever was wrong with Ginny was something she only wanted to share with Ron. She had, after all, been quite adamant about Harry not even going for Fred or George, and they were her flesh and blood.  
  
Ginny was shaking, trembling as she tried to draw in unsteady breaths in an obvious attempt to get calm enough to answer her brother's question. Once again, Harry was reminded of the way she'd looked in the Chamber of Secrets. She'd cried then, too; in fact, she'd been as close to hysteria as was humanly possible. Harry wondered if he should go back upstairs; this was obviously supposed to be a private conversation. His curiosity wouldn't let him, though, and he was also genuinely concerned.  
  
"Ginny, I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong." Ron wasn't being short with his sister, but he was speaking sharply enough to somehow force a response out of her.  
  
"I..." Ginny shook her head and was quiet for a moment, drawing in several long breaths. "It's happening again." Her first coherent sentence was so quiet Harry wasn't even positive that he'd heard correctly.  
  
Ron obviously shared his confusion because he tilted his head slightly and asked for a more sensible clarification. "What's happening again?"  
  
Ginny started crying again, though this time she thankfully wasn't sobbing uncontrollably. This time, she was crying quietly in a way that proved at least one thing. Whatever was happening again was terrifying her.  
  
"Gin, come on," Ron said quietly. "Just tell me."  
  
Ginny looked up then, her brown eyes wider than Harry could ever remember seeing them. Her cheeks were streaked red with the trail of innumerable tears, and her hair was knotted and wild. The tears had stopped again, but her voice was as hollow as it had been before.  
  
"He's back. I can feel him."  
  
Something heavy settled in Harry's stomach, and he hoped beyond hope that his gut feeling was wrong.  
  
"Who?" Ron asked the question after a moment's delay; his tone of voice made it clear that he was hoping the same thing.  
  
Ginny swallowed once and looked down at her lap. In little more than a whisper, she managed to answer. "Riddle. You... Voldemort."  
  
Harry was shocked. Never before had he heard any member of the Weasley family say Voldemort's name; he granted, of course, that he hadn't had too many conversations about him with any of them other than Ron, but it still surprised him. What surprised him even more was the sharp revelation that hit him full-force for the first time.  
  
Virginia Weasley was the only other person besides himself who Voldemort had set out to kill and failed. It was Voldemort in a different time, yes, but it was the Dark Lord nonetheless. This fact had been staring him in the face for four years, and he had somehow never noticed it.  
  
His momentary shock faded quickly, though, and it was replaced by a feeling that couldn't quite be classified as fear but was as close to the emotion as it was possible to come. He wasn't sure what it was exactly, but he knew that it was an almost sickening feeling; he felt as if he wanted to throw up.  
  
"Ginny..." Ron looked as if he was trying to sort out the best way to go about addressing his sister's confession. His face showed a mix of emotions, that of a concerned sympathizer, that of an overprotective older brother, and that of a terrified fifteen year old boy.  
  
"I'm not lying, Ron," she said quietly.  
  
"Did you have a nightmare or what?" he asked, obviously grasping for anything that might make her words easier to digest.  
  
She shook her head, still trembling slightly. "No. Not really... I mean, I was asleep, but I woke up. And..." She broke off and looked away toward the fireplace.  
  
"And what?"  
  
"And I could feel him," she whispered. Then she shook her head. "You don't understand."  
  
"I'm trying to understand," Ron said desperately. "But I don't know what you mean when you say you could feel him. You felt like he was here? Like in Hogwarts?"  
  
She shook her head again. "No. Like he was back inside of me." She put her hands to her face and ran them backwards through her hair, grabbing at the tangles behind her head. "When I had the diary," she paused and took another breath. "When I had the diary, I used to wake up in the middle of the night and know that he needed me."  
  
"Needed you?" Ron was apparently getting quite creeped out, but he was trying nonetheless.  
  
Ginny pulled her knees up to her chest and sat facing Ron on the sofa. It took her another long moment to get her thoughts in order. "I tried to get rid of that thing so many times," she said quietly. "I really did."  
  
"I know," Ron answered back just as quietly. Harry knew that he was remembering the day they'd found the diary in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.  
  
"I tried to throw it away. I tried to hide it. I tried to make it disappear." She shrugged. "But nothing worked because I kept waking up in the middle of the night and going to find it."  
  
"Why did you do that if you wanted to get rid of it?"  
  
Ginny bit down on her lower lip and looked away once more. "Because he would make me," she whispered. "I'd wake up and feel him and have no control over it."  
  
Harry watched silently as Ginny started to cry again. He wondered fleetingly how Ron knew to just let her cry; it certainly seemed that that was what she needed at the moment. Ron just sat aside wordlessly as she cried the last of that bout of tears, and he hugged her gently when it appeared that she was done.  
  
After he'd pulled away again, he looked at her in a way Harry wasn't used to seeing Ron look at Ginny. He was looking at her in the same way he'd looked at her the moment he'd pulled her through the cleared rocks at the entrance of the Chamber of Secrets- like he really, truly loved her. The relationship between the two youngest Weasley siblings was something that had always perplexed Harry. He knew, of course, that, excepting Fred and George, they were closer in age than any of the other siblings were to each other; only eleven months separated them, as Ginny would be turning fifteen the very next week. He also knew that they'd apparently been quite close when they were younger, both having a common enemy- the twins. He also knew, obviously, that they shared a very special bond that only siblings could. What he didn't know, though, was why they fought so much, especially lately. Ron and Hermione had always fought, too, but that, Harry supposed, had always been leading up to where they were now. With Ginny and Ron, though, it was different. They fought in a way that was native to brothers and sisters; they could be yelling at each other and kicking each other one minute and then laughing together over something the very next. It was something that Harry didn't understand, and he knew somehow that he would never understand it; he knew this for one main reason. He would never, ever have any siblings to experience that sort of arguing with.  
  
When Ginny was calmer, Ron started talking again in a very hushed voice that Harry had to strain to hear. "How could you feel that way now, though? That diary was destroyed three years ago."  
  
"I know that." She pushed some more of her messy hair out of her face. "But it was the same feeling. I thought... I thought he was gone."  
  
"He is, Ginny," Ron said seriously.  
  
But Ginny just shook her head. "No. He's not. Maybe his sixteen year old memory is gone, but You... but Voldemort is back." She drew in a wavering voice. "And I can feel him."  
  
Ron didn't flinch at the name, and Harry wondered if maybe he was accepting the fact that fearing a name was senseless. He didn't worry with this question for too long, though, because he was far more concerned with what Ginny had just said.  
  
She could feel him.  
  
Harry could feel him, too, when he was close enough. In fact, when he'd been face to face with Voldemort, his scar had nearly burned his forehead to death. It wasn't hurting now, though, and Harry had taken that as a good sign- a sign that he was nowhere near Hogwarts and therefore no real threat at the moment.  
  
Maybe he was just being naive.  
  
Voldemort was always a threat, close or not, and Harry was simply in denial if he allowed himself to think otherwise.  
  
What scared him the most, though, was the fact that he wasn't the only person who could sense the Dark Lord's presence. And the fact that Ginny seemed to be able to pick up on it even more acutely than Harry could scared him beyond belief. But, then again, he'd had never been possessed by the bastard, either. Yes, Harry had some of Voldemort's powers just as Voldemort had some of Harry's blood, but he'd never been taken over as Ginny had; he'd never had Voldemort controlling all of his thoughts and actions.  
  
"Maybe we ought to owl Mum and Dad." Ron sounded thoroughly worried now, and Harry caught the way he was regarding Ginny with the utmost of care.  
  
But Ginny was adamant in her refusal. "No!" She sat up immediately and looked at him wild-eyed. "Ron, please! You can't tell Mum and Dad!"  
  
"But, Ginny..."  
  
"You can't tell them!" she said urgently. "They'll just worry, and they might even make me go home or something. Just swear you won't tell them."  
  
"But..."  
  
"Please, Ron," she said seriously. "Just swear, okay?"  
  
There was a moment of silence before Ron finally nodded rather reluctantly. "I swear."  
  
Ginny looked at him gratefully. "And don't tell Fred and George, either, because you know how they'll act. They'll start treating me like I'm a fragile little baby, and I'm not." Her eyes were still wide. "I'm not," she repeated firmly.  
  
"I know you're not," he said quietly. It was ironic, though, because Ron was perhaps the most overprotective out of any of her brothers and yet he was the only one who really knew she wasn't just a little girl anymore.  
  
"So, you won't tell?"  
  
Ron shook his head. "I won't tell under one condition."  
  
Ginny sighed. Apparently, all promises in the Weasley family came with conditions. "What condition?" she asked dully.  
  
"I won't tell, but you have to go to Madame Pomfrey tonight."  
  
"But I'm fine now!"  
  
Ron was adamant, though, and he shook his head. "You know good and well that you won't go back upstairs and go to sleep. Madame Pomfrey can give you a dreamless sleep potion."  
  
"But tomorrow is a Hogsmeade trip." Ginny almost sounded rather pitiful.  
  
However, Ron seemed immune to her pity pleas. "You can go some other time. If you don't go to the infirmary tonight, I'll write home to Mum and Dad."  
  
"Fine." She huffed up a bit and glared at him briefly, but Harry noticed that she didn't struggle too much when Ron pulled her to her feet. He watched wordlessly as the siblings headed for the exit of the Common Room and left through the portrait hole.  
  
Going back to his bed seemed an odd thing to do. He couldn't exactly sleep after witnessing Ginny's tearful confession, so he went over to one of the good chairs by the fire and sat in silence.  
  
Ron returned about an hour later, looking tired and worried. He stopped when he saw his best friend waiting up.  
  
"Is she okay?" Harry stood up and crossed the room to the entrance where Ron had stopped.  
  
Nodding slightly, Ron looked away. "Yeah. She'll be fine."  
  
That was all the explanation given. Harry knew at once that Ron had no idea about the eavesdropping. He also realized that Ron wasn't about to spill any of Ginny's secrets.  
  
There was something incredibly noble about this.  
  
Harry just nodded. "Well, good. I was just, you know, worried about her."  
  
"Yeah." Ron started walking back to the dormitory stairs. He stopped for a second and turned around. "Hey, can you do me a favor and not mention tonight to anyone?"  
  
Harry nodded again. "Yeah, sure."  
  
Ron forced a grateful half-smile and disappeared up the stairs, leaving Harry once again alone in the Common Room.  
  
As he reflected on the night's events, he realized something. He was, not for the first time, jealous of his best friend. He'd witnessed something tonight that he would never get a chance to experience.  
  
The bond of a brother and a sister.  
  
Despite the factors surrounding the events, Harry couldn't help but wonder what it was like to have something like that with someone.  
  
He knew, though, that he would never have the opportunity to find out.  
  
***************************  
  
Those of you that are members of the Yahoo! group know that the original version of this chapter gotten eaten by my computer. This is what I could remember, and I hope that it turned out close to what the original was.  
  
I would adore feedback, of course! 


	55. Hogsmeade

A/N: Well, this one got out quicker! Thanks for all the reviews of the last part!  
  
Disclaimer: Do I really need to say anything?  
  
*********************  
  
Hogsmeade was even more crowded than usual that Saturday. Besides the great majority of third, fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh year Hogwarts students, the streets were filled with what appeared to be half of the wizarding world. Harry was thankful for this, however, as it would make it much easier to sneak away when one o'clock came around.  
  
Ginny was still in the hospital wing at Madame Pomfrey's insistence. Harry and Hermione had followed Ron up to the infirmary to check on her after breakfast, and though she looked fine to them, Madame Pomfrey had said she wasn't going anywhere until the following day, as she was still rather weak. Fred and George had joined them soon afterwards and had been given the same story that Harry and Hermione had; Ron told them all that Ginny was just suffering from a bit of a cold and wasn't sleeping properly. Harry knew it was a lie, of course, but he had simply nodded and made sure not to appear too knowledgeable about her real condition. He felt sorry because she was stuck in the hospital wing while all of her friends enjoyed the first Hogsmeade weekend of the new semester, but that same selfish part of him that had appeared the day before when he'd found out Professor Lupin wouldn't be joining them resurfaced. It was different, of course, on account of the fact that the main reason he couldn't force himself to feel too awfully bad was because he was just too excited to see Sirius.  
  
And possibly even more excited to talk to Gia for the first time in three weeks.  
  
After Hermione had phoned her parents from the Muggle phone booth, she and Ron disappeared to the bookstore, and Harry, glancing around to make sure that no one was waiting to use the phone, entered the booth and dialed Gia's number. After the third ring, Harry was worried that no one was home; a familiar voice finally picked up, though, and his heart thudded slightly at the sound of her voice.  
  
"Hello?"  
  
"Gia?" He was half-surprised that he could manage his voice properly.  
  
"Harry!" Her voice gave away the huge smile that was playing on her face.  
  
Harry swallowed, thinking that he'd never been so happy to hear his name in his entire life. "What are you doing?"  
  
"Homework. I was afraid you wouldn't get the chance to call."  
  
Harry glanced behind him once more just to make sure no one was in eavesdropping area. "I told you I would."  
  
"I'm glad you did." Her voice was softer, as though she was biting her lower lip shyly. "I miss you."  
  
If she only knew. "I miss you, too." He felt the tips of his ears turn red for no apparent reason.  
  
"How's Hermione? And Ron?"  
  
Harry wasn't really in the mood to discuss his best friends when he finally had Gia's voice in his ear, but he answered her question anyway. "They're fine. Still together."  
  
He heard Gia giggle. "That's good."  
  
He didn't bother asking what was so good about it. He just focused in on the way her laugh sounded and realized that he was starved for the sound of it. "God, I really miss you." He wasn't surprised that he'd said it, as it was the only thing he could think coherently. He was surprised, though, at the tone of voice he said it in, low and completely honest.  
  
There was a second's silence. Then Gia sighed softly. "It's just two months until April." She didn't sound as if she even convinced herself.  
  
"Two months is a long time."  
  
"I know." Her voice sounded just as longing as his did. "But it'll be worth it when it gets here."  
  
He could only imagine. "I know," he said softly, trying very hard not to get too involved in imagining.  
  
"I think about you all the time."  
  
Once again, his heart felt very funny. "Same here." He managed a half- laugh. "My grades are dropping like crazy because of it."  
  
She returned the same sort of half-laugh and said, "Get Hermione to help you."  
  
"She's always busy," he said derisively.  
  
She laughed again. "Well, don't ask any other girls for help."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes slightly, thinking that even looking at another girl seemed foreign at this point and time.  
  
He was way too far gone on Gia.  
  
**************************************  
  
"What are you doing? The bookstore's down this way." Ron turned his head in the proper direction and then back to Hermione, who was suddenly looking rather apprehensive.  
  
"I know," she said quietly. "But let's just go this way." She didn't say anything else, just gently tugged him down a different way, this one leading between two buildings instead of down a main road.  
  
Ron followed her, not at all sure why she was taking such a detour but certainly not protesting the feeling of her hand tucked into his. She led him down the little alley but stopped suddenly and ducked behind a trash bin, pulling him with her.  
  
Out of instinct, he ducked his head slightly and looked at her curiously. "What's wrong?" he whispered, bewilderment all over his face.  
  
Hermione glanced past him just briefly before taking advantage of his ducked head and grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him into a very tight kiss.  
  
A few moments later, Ron stood back up feeling quite dizzy, though extremely content. "What was that for?" he asked, shocked beyond belief that his voice worked.  
  
Hermione, looking a bit pink, shrugged a single shoulder. "I dunno. I just wanted to do it."  
  
Ron studied her for a brief moment before finally breaking into a laugh. "You're so weird."  
  
Hermione glared at him contemptuously. "Gee, thanks," she muttered sarcastically.  
  
But Ron just laughed again. "It's cute, though."  
  
It was obvious that she was trying very hard to look stern, but she was failing miserably. Before long, she was laughing right along with him.  
  
"Do you want to do it again?" he asked hopefully.  
  
Hermione blushed scarlet for just a second before grinning. "Yeah."  
  
And then they were at it again, Hermione flattening her body against the wall behind her as Ron's hands found her waist and held her there. They were almost overly-eager for each other, as it was quite difficult to find alone time when there were nosy teachers, gossiping classmates, and a lonely best friend to deal with on a daily basis. But no one was around now. And Harry would probably be distracted by his lovesick phone conversation for several minutes at least.  
  
So, Ron and Hermione were both very aware that this left them alone. Together. In a deserted alley. For at least several minutes.  
  
And they certainly made the most of the time.  
  
One of Hermione's hands wrapped itself into the hair behind Ron's neck while her free one searched for one of his own. She found them both gripping her waist, and, never breaking the kiss, she managed to loosen one of them enough to where she could entwine the fingers with her own and their joined hands behind her back and just under the hemline of her coat. She felt Ron's thumb gently rub across her lower spine, and she smiled against his lips; everything about it was just amazing.  
  
"You taste like chocolate," she said a few moments later when they finally pulled apart.  
  
Ron stared at her with a look that would have been identical to the amazement that she was feeling if a feeling and a look could be placed in the same category. And then, all at once, he broke into one of those lopsided grins she'd found herself helpless against and said, "And you taste like toothpaste. But that's to be expected."  
  
Hermione giggled and slapped at him playfully with the hand that wasn't still tucked underneath the back of her coat with his. "Do you think Harry's done yet?"  
  
"Probably." Ron didn't seem to care, as he seemed quite keen on kissing her again.  
  
"We should go find him," she said as their lips stayed touching.  
  
"Probably," he repeated, kissing her once again.  
  
Hermione really didn't want to leave the deserted alley anymore than Ron did, but they'd told Harry to meet them in the bookshop, and she wasn't too eager to answer any questions if they weren't where they'd said they would be. Leaning back just barely, she told Ron that they needed to go.  
  
Ron sighed dejectedly, but straightened back up, drawing their joined hands back to their fronts. "Fine."  
  
She bit her lower lip just briefly before lifting herself onto her tiptoes and giving him a very quick kiss on the cheek. When she lowered herself, she tugged him back down towards the main road, and they walked out into the sunlight, squinting in the brightness of the late January morning.  
  
The bookstore was perhaps the least crowded place in the small town, though Hermione couldn't for the life of her figure out why it was so deserted.  
  
"This really is one of the most resourceful shops I've been in," she told Ron as he hung back and watched while she searched the shelves in the history section. Harry had yet to show up.  
  
Ron nodded absently, admiring more of Hermione and less of the resources in the store. "Some people just don't appreciate good literature."  
  
Hermione turned her head and stared at him for a moment before rolling her eyes and smirking. "Shut up."  
  
Ron snickered. "What are you looking for anyway?"  
  
"I'm trying to find a book on Pruitt, Whitton, and Layman." She ran her fingers across the binds of several books as she scanned their titles.  
  
Ron wasn't too excited about reading anything that had to do with the three people who had been the cause of this whole damn prophecy thing to begin with. "Why, Hermione?" he asked sullenly. "We already know we're doomed, why do you need to read about it?"  
  
Hermione sent him a cross look. "Well, we have a better chance of not being doomed if we know what we're up against, don't we?"  
  
Ron still couldn't see the pleasure in reading about their impending risks, but he just shrugged and kept his mouth shut. She was more than likely correct anyway.  
  
She always was.  
  
Several minutes later, she gave an exclamation of happiness. "Yes!"  
  
"Did you find something?"  
  
She nodded and looked upwards, raising onto her tiptoes to try and reach a book several shelves above her head. "Will you get that for me?"  
  
Ron looked up at the rows and rows of books. "Which one?"  
  
"The green one, right there," she pointed up toward a thick green volume, and Ron reached up and easily got it down.  
  
He turned it over in his hands and read the title out loud. "The Rise and Fall of Manicalt."  
  
"There's got to be something in there," Hermione said, her voice speeding up slightly as it always did when she was excited about something. She took the book from him and thumbed to the Table of Contents. "Look! There's a chapter on each of them and then a whole chapter on their revolution."  
  
Ron, still not the least bit enthused, nodded. "Great," he said dully.  
  
"How much money do you have on you?" she asked, ignoring his lack of excitement as she found the price of the book.  
  
Ron dug into his pockets and managed to dig up a handful of sickles and knuts. Hermione leaned over his open hand and counted the money, mentally added it to what she had in her own coat pocket, and then looked back at him hopefully. "Can I borrow it? I'll pay you back when we get back to school."  
  
Ron gave her the money with no intention of taking any payback even though she'd promised. Hermione glanced around and quickly kissed his cheek, thanking him before heading to the register to purchase the new book.  
  
***********************************  
  
"I should go." Harry hated to say the words. He would have liked nothing more in the world than to stay on the phone with her for hours, but Colin Creevey had shown up outside the telephone booth a couple of minutes earlier, and he looked awfully excited about something. Harry decided it was a tossup between either seeing his idol or getting the opportunity to talk to his parents. "Someone's waiting to use the phone, and there's only one."  
  
He heard the pained sigh from Gia's end of the conversation and knew exactly how she felt. This wasn't fair- only getting to hear each other once a month. However, it wasn't as if they had too much of a choice, either. She knew this, too, and after a moment she gave a regretful, "Okay."  
  
"I'll write you tonight," he promised.  
  
"Me, too." After a moment's pause, she once again quietly said, "I miss you."  
  
Harry glanced toward the glass door of the telephone booth to make sure that Colin, or anyone else for that matter, wasn't listening before whispering something else to her. "I love you." It was only the second time he'd ever said those words out loud, both times being to Gia. He'd gotten used to writing them but saying them was a different thing entirely.  
  
Hearing them was even more amazing.  
  
"I love you, too." He closed his eyes just for a second when she returned them, trying to commit the sound of them to his memory. It really was like nothing else in the world.  
  
She made him forget all of his problems.  
  
A few moments later, after they'd regretfully hung up, Harry opened the door to the telephone booth and stepped back outside. Colin was waiting patiently, and he smiled when Harry got nearer.  
  
"Hey, Harry!" he said brightly.  
  
Harry really didn't want to be bothered having a conversation with anyone when he was trying to recall every minute of his telephone conversation in exacting detail. But he couldn't exactly be mean, either.  
  
"Hi, Colin."  
  
"I've got to call my dad," he explained quickly. "It's his birthday today!"  
  
Harry gave him a half-smile. "That's cool."  
  
Colin smiled again before looking as if he suddenly remembered something. "Hey, did you get in to see Ginny this morning?"  
  
Ginny.  
  
There went Harry's blissfulness all in one word.  
  
"Yeah, I saw her after breakfast." He wondered why Colin had a sudden interest in whether or not he'd seen Ginny.  
  
To his surprise, though, Colin looked relieved. "Good. How is she?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "She'll be fine. She'll probably be out by tomorrow."  
  
Colin nodded. "I was just really worried, you know, when I found out she had to go to the infirmary in the middle of the night. And then Rachel and I tried to go see her, but Madame Pomfrey wouldn't let us in. I guess it must be family only or something."  
  
Harry furrowed his brow slightly. "I'm not related to her."  
  
"Yeah, but you were probably with her brothers, right?"  
  
Harry nodded.  
  
"Well, then that's probably it. But I was still upset that we couldn't see her. I mean, she's my best friend."  
  
There was something new. Harry certainly had never realized that Ginny Weasley and Colin Creevey were best friends, but, then again, he'd never really taken an interest in finding out who they were friends with, either.  
  
But still. Colin Creevey?  
  
Surely Ginny could find a better friend than that.  
  
As soon as he'd had the thought, Harry felt awful. That was a horrible thing to think. Colin was probably one of the most genuinely nice people that Harry had ever met in his entire life. He was just a bit overly annoying, though, and Harry hated the way he was idolized by Colin. But Harry was sure that he was fiercely loyal and probably made a very good friend.  
  
"If you see her tonight, could you tell her I hope she feels better?" Colin's voice broke Harry's thoughts. "And let her know why Rachel and I can't get in?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Yeah, I'll tell her."  
  
Colin smiled again. "Thanks, Harry."  
  
Harry nodded once more. "Sure."  
  
As Harry made his way down the cobblestone main street of Hogsmeade, he let his thoughts drift back to Gia. She was so perfect- in every way. Harry still had trouble believing that he'd even met her; the thought that she actually loved him was beyond comprehension. But he really did love her; he loved everything about her, and he couldn't remember ever being as happy as he'd been over the Christmas holiday when he'd been able to see her every day.  
  
A startling thought occurred to him, and even though it was more than a bit premature, he still felt an indescribably warm feeling as he pictured it.  
  
He realized that he would be insanely happy when he graduated from school because he fully intended on spending every day for the rest of his life with her.  
  
Harry didn't allow himself to get too far caught up in the fantasy of being happy for the rest of his life, as it would certainly be embarrassing to attempt explaining the goofy grin on his face to Ron and Hermione or anyone else he might come across.  
  
His thoughts were interrupted completely by the sound of giggling, and when he looked sideways toward the designer robe shop, he saw a group of Ravenclaws laughing over something as they studied the display.  
  
"Harry!" He looked over and saw Padma Patil waving him over. With a reluctant groan, he walked over to the group of girls and waited for whatever Padma's reason for calling him over was. "Have you seen my sister at all?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "Not since breakfast."  
  
"Damn," she muttered. "Have you seen Lavender?"  
  
Harry wondered if it was possible to see Lavender without seeing Parvati. He shook his head again. "That last time I saw them was in the Great Hall this morning."  
  
Padma frowned but nodded. "Well, if you see them, tell Parvati that there is a set of robes in there that she would kill for in here." She said all of this very seriously, as though the Fate of the free world was resting on Parvati Patil getting a new set of robes. Harry wanted to roll his eyes, but he didn't.  
  
"Okay." He turned and started to walk away just as one of the girls toward the outside of the circle of Ravenclaws turned around and almost smacked straight into him. "Sorry," he mumbled, not bothering to look up.  
  
"Hey, Harry." It was a soft-spoken greeting that he didn't recognize by sound, so he looked up, half-annoyed that someone else was probably about to talk to him about clothes.  
  
They weren't.  
  
"Hi, Cho," he said quietly, realizing that they were the first words he'd spoken to her in months. They'd both done their best to avoid each other, for reasons unknown on the surface but extremely harsh on the inside.  
  
"How are you?" Harry could tell it was a forced question, but he didn't say anything about it.  
  
He simply nodded and sort of half-shrugged all at once. "Okay. You?"  
  
"Okay," she repeated, her eyes searching the ground below them.  
  
There was a crazy long silence that Harry felt was never going to end. Finally, when he couldn't stand it any longer, he said, "Well... I should go find my friends."  
  
She looked up then, nodding slightly. "I saw them go into the bookstore a little while ago."  
  
He nodded again. "Yeah, I'm late."  
  
"Okay," she said softly. "See you later then."  
  
"Yeah," he muttered. "Bye."  
  
Without another glance at the group of Ravenclaw girls, he turned away and started back down the same path he had been traveling moments before. Cho Chang was not a complication that he needed at the moment. She was beautiful and smart and nice and genuine.  
  
All of the things he certainly did not need to be distracted by.  
  
Not to mention the fact that he'd killed her boyfriend. There was also that.  
  
Of course, Harry hadn't been the one to set the killing curse on Cedric Diggory, but he might as well have been. He was just as responsible for Cedric's death as Lord Voldemort or any of the other Death Eaters that had been there that night.  
  
And for that, he would never forgive himself.  
  
He remembered three years ago when he had accused Sirius of murdering his parents, and Sirius had admitted to the crime. Even though he hadn't even been anywhere close to Godric's Hollow that night. Sirius blamed himself because it had been his idea to switch to Pettigrew as the Potter's Secret Keeper.  
  
Now, Harry understood exactly how he felt.  
  
It had been his idea to take that damn Cup together.  
  
Without even realizing it, he stumbled upon the bookshop and was surprised to see Ron and Hermione sitting on one of the benches outside. They both had their heads ducked over a book, but only Hermione was reading; Ron appeared far too preoccupied with taking in the features of her profile while she wasn't looking.  
  
Hermione looked up when he approached them, obviously breaking Ron's concentration, too. "Did you talk to Gia?"  
  
He nodded and moved to sit down. Hermione slid over and let him have some room as he squeezed in between her and the armrest of the bench. "What's that?" he asked, nodding toward the open book on her lap.  
  
She glanced down at it and then back up. "It's a book about Manicalt."  
  
"Hermione reckons it's worth the read," Ron said, looking at Harry behind Hermione's head and rolling his eyes.  
  
She gave him a maddeningly superior look that just screamed the fact that she was going to ignore him. Harry, though, was distracted. He reached for the book and flipped right to the Table of Contents.  
  
"So, it talks about that prophecy shit in here?" His eyes glided over the familiar names of the Hogwarts students from five centuries ago.  
  
"It's not shit," Hermione said promptly, obviously no longer caring whether they swore in front of her or whether she herself swore. Her eyes shone quite seriously. "It's important that we know as much as we can."  
  
Harry looked over at her and was reminded of an eleven year old Hermione whose main goal in life had been to make sure they all knew as much as they could. About everything.  
  
Funnily enough, this time he agreed with her.  
  
"You're right," he said, ignoring the incredulous look that Ron sent him over Hermione's head. "Did they have anything else in there about this?" He nodded toward the bookstore.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Not that I saw. This was all I could find."  
  
Harry nodded. "Right. So, we read this then."  
  
"Why do you want to read something that you already know will certainly not end well?" Ron asked defiantly.  
  
Harry fought the urge to say that he couldn't comprehend a story actually having a happy ending; every story of his life always ended up miserably. Why should this one be any different?  
  
"Ron, we can't change anything about it. Then or now." Hermione looked expectantly at him. "Do you really want to go into this whole thing completely unprepared?"  
  
Ron got the look that Harry recognized as his 'hate it when Hermione's right' look. It had been a very common expression for five years now, and Harry often wondered when Ron would realize that she was always right.  
  
"Well, if it isn't Gryffindor's Golden Group." Draco Malfoy strolled up to them, and for once he wasn't flanked by Crabbe, Goyle, or Pansy Parkinson.  
  
"And if it isn't Slytherin's Silver Slime," Hermione chirped back pleasantly.  
  
"Good one, Granger," he said approvingly. "Your use of alliteration is astounding."  
  
"Why, thank you," she said just as brightly. "It warms my heart to know that you think so."  
  
Harry quickly shut the book in front of him. "Where're all your groupies, Malfoy?"  
  
Ron snickered from the other side of the bench. "Get real, Harry. He just came out of the bookstore. Do you honestly think any of them know how to read?"  
  
This was almost too much, as all three Gryffindors nearly doubled over with laughter. Malfoy glared at them.  
  
"Well, I saw you in there earlier, Weasley," he said smoothly. "I wasn't aware they gave books away for free, but they must or else you certainly would have no place in there."  
  
"Why don't you do us all a favor and just die?" Ron shot back without hesitation.  
  
The infuriating smirk was back. "I could ask the same of the Boy Who Freakishly Lived. And Lived. And Lived."  
  
"And I could beat the shit out of you, but I'm not going to." Ron glared up at the Slytherin, smartly not getting up from his place on the bench.  
  
"That's right, Weasley," Malfoy soothed. "Don't want you to get in a fight and get arrested for public assault. Your parents might not be able to bail you out."  
  
"At least my parents would want to bail me out." Ron didn't even flinch. "Can't say the same about yours, though."  
  
Harry watched the exchange between his best friend and his greatest rival. He'd let Malfoy get to him a fair amount of times, but Ron let him get through every single time. Harry knew, of course, that their families hated each other, but he'd never fully understood just how deep that hatred ran.  
  
At the moment, though, he didn't really care.  
  
A glance at his watch told him that it was 12:47. They were due to meet Sirius in thirteen minutes, and they were nowhere near the Shrieking Shack. He nudged Hermione as Ron and Malfoy continued to face off. When she looked over at him curiously, he casually placed his wrist over her knee and lifted up the sleeve of his sweater. Hermione got the point as she looked down at his watch, and a second later she stood up.  
  
"Just fuck off, Malfoy," she said clearly, motioning with her head for the boys to follow her.  
  
Both Ron and Harry were knocked slightly with surprise at Hermione's sudden favoring of foul language. Oddly enough, though, the words really didn't sound that strange, even coming from someone as intelligent as the girl in front of them. Without a word, Ron and Harry stood up and followed Hermione away from Malfoy and down the road.  
  
Harry caught a glance of Malfoy gaping after them, obviously shocked- both by the avoided fight and by Hermione's word choice.  
  
"We're late," Harry muttered to the other two as they walked briskly in the direction of the Shrieking Shack.  
  
They hurried up one street and down the next until the neared the huge old house that loomed over Hogsmeade like a hawk guarding its nest. Harry still got the creeps when he saw it even though he knew the full story behind it now and knew that the legend of it being the most severely haunted place in Britain was all a falsity.  
  
It took a bit of planning to sneak into the house without anyone seeing them. The hardest part of getting in was the fact that the door was locked and 'Alohomora' wasn't working.  
  
"That window is cracked," Harry whispered as they all ducked behind a large bush to avoid being seen by a passing group of witches. The window was approximately eight feet from the ground and just barely open; however, it was their only option.  
  
"There's no way we'll fit through there!" Ron hissed back.  
  
Harry looked up at the window and visibly measured the space they had to work with. Then, having no other plan, he turned to Hermione and visibly measured her.  
  
Hermione saw the way he was looking at her and immediately groaned very loudly.  
  
"Come on," he coaxed her gently. "Please. We don't have any other choice."  
  
She looked up at the window and frowned. "I don't think I'll fit," she protested.  
  
"You will!" he said instantly. "You can take off your coat and leave it here; that will save you some space. And then when you get through, you can unlock the door, and we'll bring it with us."  
  
"But Harry..." She broke off, sighing again.  
  
"We'll help you get up there and make sure you don't fall," he promised seriously.  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "The last time you two said that, I fell fifteen feet off of a ladder and almost died."  
  
"That wasn't our fault!" Ron protested immediately. "It was a damn book's fault. That should have taught you right there not to read so fucking much."  
  
Hermione glared at him, and Harry knew they were about to be very much on the losing side. "It won't happen this time, I swear!" Harry gave her the most pleading of looks that he could manage. "Please Hermione."  
  
"Oh, fine," she huffed, unbuttoning her coat and tossing it to the ground. "But if that window slams shut while I'm trying to get through and I get decapitated or something, I'll haunt you both for the rest of your lives."  
  
"Well, if that happens," Ron said teasingly, "maybe you could put in a good word for Sir Nicholas at the Headless Hunt."  
  
They all laughed, even Hermione, who was obviously trying very hard not to. Rolling her eyes, she took a deep breath and looked expectantly at them. They situated themselves in the way that they all thought would be the easiest. Harry made a cradle with his hands, and Hermione carefully placed one trainer-clad shoe into his palms, pushing herself off of the ground and reaching for a lower ledge on the side of the house to steady herself with. Harry was surprised at how light she really was when she wasn't just being a dead weight. She really was extremely small. Sometimes he forgot that.  
  
"Why couldn't Snuffles have taken care of this?" she asked testily as Ron gripped her waist and hoisted her higher with Harry pushing her upwards.  
  
Harry had to wonder this himself.  
  
Ron, however, didn't seem to care. He was struggling slightly, trying to balance Hermione over his head; Harry had to admit that the feat was getting more difficult by the second even with two of them working on it. Ron actually looked quite annoyed. "Jesus, Hermione, shut up and hurry! You're getting heavy!"  
  
Harry closed his eyes, wondering if Ron would ever learn. Hermione wasted no time in deftly moving the foot that was steadying her against the wall and aiming it straight at Ron's chest. Luckily, though, Harry caught it before she actually kicked him, causing them all to tumble to the ground in a heap.  
  
"You called her fat again," he whispered warningly at Ron.  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "I did not."  
  
"I can hear you!" Hermione called down angrily.  
  
"Hermione, just go!" they cried at the same time, both of them knowing that they were mere seconds away from dropping her.  
  
"I'm trying!" she yelled back huffily. "I can't reach it!"  
  
Harry groaned, and Ron grumbled as he struggled to hoist her higher. "Just reach for the ledge and pull yourself up," he called.  
  
"No shit, Sherlock," she called back just as annoyed. Harry snickered at the completely clueless look on Ron's face. "I cannot reach it!" She pronounced each word as though she was trying to get an incredibly simple idea through two incredibly thick skulls.  
  
Harry took a deep breath. "Okay, on the count of three we're going to boost you. Try to grab onto it then." He looked at Ron who nodded. "One... Two..."  
  
A loud rapping caused both boys to start violently and, in the process, caused them to both be knocked off balance enough to where all three of them fell to the ground. Hermione yelled as she landed heavily on top of Harry's chest. Harry grimaced and let out a rather loud "Oomph!" when she landed. She was light, but she wasn't that light. Especially not when falling full-force onto him.  
  
It didn't help when she caught her breath a second later and wasted no time at all in smacking him rather hard across his already bruised chest. "Ow!" he cried in protest, but she just poked at him quite roughly and went off on a tangent.  
  
"Never again!" She was fuming. "Never again!"  
  
"Get off, Hermione!" he said, not knowing how much his poor body could take. He sat up and shoved her, causing her to land on the ground. This, of course, only gave her better access to Ron, who she punched straight in the gut.  
  
"I'm never trusting you two again! Ever!"  
  
"It wasn't our fault!" Ron protested loudly. "What the bloody hell was that?" He sat up and looked around.  
  
Harry did the same thing, ignoring the way Hermione was still fuming.  
  
All three of them jumped, though, when the rapping was heard again. Harry's head spun toward the house, and a grin covered his face.  
  
Sirius Black was standing in the shadows of one of the lower level windows and motioning them toward the back of the house.  
  
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A/N: Please review! 


	56. The Infamous Sirius Black

A/N: Sorry for the long delay, but I've been in the hospital and there's obviously not a whole lot of opportunities to write there. I will probably be in and out for awhile, but I will still try to keep up as much as possible and let you know if I'm going to be taking a bit longer than usual. Thanks for understanding!  
  
Disclaimer: They all belong to JK Rowling, and I am (sadly) not her...  
  
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By the next day, the entire wizarding world had accepted one universal fact.  
  
The Dark Lord had returned.  
  
Even Cornelius Fudge and his supporters couldn't deny the truth any longer. Not when something so terrifyingly real had forced them to accept the horrible truth.  
  
Seeing Sirius had been fabulous. Harry wasn't sure how he'd gotten to feel such a strong connection with his godfather through the short time they'd known each other, but he truly felt like a part of him that had been empty was filled by the presence of the man who had been his parents' best friend.  
  
Sirius Black- Azkaban escapee, one of the most feared convicted murders in the world (both Muggle and wizarding), and the man still considered by thousands to be the right-hand man of the Darkest Wizard of all time- had looked cleaner and healthier than Harry, Ron, and Hermione had ever seen him. His hair was shorter, and his clothes were clean; they knew he'd been staying at Professor Lupin's house for the summer, but his whereabouts since the start of the school year had been kept secret for obvious reasons. However, he appeared well-groomed and well-fed nonetheless, so they could only assume that he had proper living conditions. No more rats at least.  
  
The afternoon visit had gone quite well; all four of them were laughing and joking, and everything seemed to be just fine. Sirius chatted with them about school and life in general. He tried to trick them into revealing the recipient of Harry's late-night letters (he'd obviously been clued in by the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor), but the three of them had simply smiled and shrugged as if they were clueless. He even teasingly joked with them about the new budding romance between two of the three members in their trio.  
  
It was a relief.  
  
Harry had been excited about seeing Sirius, but he had naturally assumed that most of the conversation would be laden with advice on how to prepare themselves for whatever was coming up for them concerning Voldemort. He'd expected to be lectured on the seriousness of the situation and even maybe scolded for not paying proper attention to his lessons. Surprisingly, though, there was absolutely no mention of anything concerning the prophecy.  
  
For a moment, they almost forgot that it even existed.  
  
They remembered quite quickly when the screaming started.  
  
It had started out with a single yell but had quickly escalated to what sounded like mass hysteria on the streets outside. Without thinking, all four of the current occupants dashed to the window in the Shrieking Shack that looked out over the main street of Hogsmeade. The sight they were met with was terrifying to say the least.  
  
There were probably a hundred people scattering out of the way, clearing a huge area in the center of the street. The scattered people were screaming and grabbing onto each other, each trying their best to get away from the much smaller group that was emerging from the center and into the cleared area.  
  
"Dementors!" Hermione had gasped the obvious before Harry even had time to register the sudden searing pain in his head. There were indeed six tall hooded figures in the middle of the crowd, but they weren't close enough to the Shrieking Shack for Harry to get the full effect, as he had in his third year when the presence of the Dementors had tortured him to the point of passing out. Harry was pretty sure that the pain in his head now was simply from the memory of the fear he'd once been crippled by in the presence of the hooded figures.  
  
"Who're the other ones?" Ron asked, his eyes wide with shock. There were two other cloaked figures among the Dementors, from the distance, they could barely tell that one was a man and the other a woman; other than that, though, they couldn't tell anything else about the people. All three teenagers turned to Sirius, who was staring coldly out the window, a look of pure hate and a twinge of something else that appeared unidentifiable was covering his face.  
  
"Take the tunnel back to Hogwarts," he said seriously, finally turning his head looking to the three younger people.  
  
"But..." Harry started to protest, but he was cut off.  
  
"Go now," Sirius repeated. "Hurry."  
  
"But what..."  
  
"Don't argue with me," Sirius said sharply, looking very pointedly at his godson. "Right now. Go."  
  
Harry stared at him wordlessly, unable to comprehend what was happening outside. Sirius looked at him for only a moment.  
  
"I said go!"  
  
Ron immediately grabbed Harry's arm and started tugging him toward the tunnel exit that they had used only once before. Harry tried to turn around and protest again, but Sirius had transformed into his dog figure and was disappearing toward the back of the house. Something was wrong, and Harry had no idea what it was.  
  
"What's happening?" Hermione asked breathlessly, hurrying to keep up with the boys as Ron literally dragged Harry beside him.  
  
Harry ignored her and wrenched himself free of Ron's grasp. "Sirius!"  
  
"Shut up!" Hermione had just as quickly clapped a hand over Harry's mouth as Ron had once again grabbed his arm. "Are you trying to get him caught?! What if someone hears you?!"  
  
Harry realized that, of course, she was right. However, it didn't stop him from almost opening his mouth and calling out to his godfather again. The only thing that did stop him was the screaming from outside; it had gotten so loud that any attempts at calling out to Sirius would have gone completely unnoticed.  
  
Later that evening, the whole school was locked in their respective Common Rooms. Dinner in the Great Hall had been cancelled, and the House-Elves had brought mini-feasts of sandwiches, pumpkin juice, and dessert to the four Common Rooms. No one was eating much, though; conversation was too animated about what had really happened a few hours earlier.  
  
Apparently, Hogsmeade had been evacuated before anyone could really tell what was happening. There were stories, of course, rumors of what had happened. Each so-called eye-witness account sounding a bit more far- fetched than the last.  
  
Rachel Ellington, who Harry recognized as a fourth year that hung around with Ginny quite frequently, claimed that she had been knocked out of the way by the Dementors as they came storming into town. Her friend Marissa, another fourth year, backed up the statement and even added to it by saying that one of the Dementors had shoved her forcefully. Bradley Jamison, a third year who Harry had never spoken to, said that a woman who was beside him in the crowd had fainted during the commotion; Harry remembered his own fainting-days and somehow didn't find this too difficult to believe. Lavender and Parvati had even come up with their own tale, both claiming to have seen the faces of the two unidentified persons. They described them as ghastly and horrifying; Lavender even said that the woman resembled an illustration in 'Holiday With Hags,' only much skinnier. The twins had what was quite easily the most outrageous of stories, but they were backed quite adamantly by their Quidditch mates and fellow seventh years, Alicia Spinnett and Katie Bell. The four of them told an insanely detailed story of the occurrences, starting at the moment a dark cloud had settled over Hogsmeade's main street preceding the sudden out-of-the-blue appearance of the Dementors and their mystery friends and ending with the Dark Mark being sent straight into the sky by the hooded man. He was laughing like a maniac, they claimed seriously. Christa Davidson, a first-year born of a wealthy pure-blood family, had burst into tears during the story, having to be comforted by Deena Larkson, the sixth year Prefect.  
  
"The last time Dementors came to Hogsmeade, they were looking for Sirius Black!" It had been Seamus who had brought this fact to light. "Do you think he's back?"  
  
Immediately, an excited rush of conversation erupted among the Gryffindors. Harry glanced nervously at Ron and Hermione, both of which looked just as worried as he felt. None of them had so much as said a word during the gossip-fest. The only other people in the room who knew the truth behind Sirius were Fred and George. But, ever the drivers behind mischief, they met Harry's eye fleetingly with grins, Fred even winked, and then they joined in on the latest Sirius Black rumors.  
  
"Didn't Sirius Black try to kill your little brother?"  
  
The question was posed to the twins by Jamelle Baudelaire. She was one of, if not the, prettiest girls in Gryffindor, and she had effectively turned the heads of ninety percent of the males at Hogwarts and approximately ten percent of the females. She was a sixth year with long blonde hair, wide sky blue eyes, and a body that made guys want to drool and girls want to spit.  
  
And the way she was suddenly cozying up to the twins gave Harry the distinct feeling that things were about to take a turn for the worse.  
  
"Why, yes," George said with a smooth grin, "Yes, he did."  
  
"He had a knife and everything, didn't he, Ron?" Fred grinned brightly at his younger brother who was turning a bit red as heads swung around from all over the room to look at him.  
  
"Er..." Ron started stuttering but stopped making all sounds completely when Jamelle got up from her place across the room and joined him on the couch he was currently sharing with Harry and Hermione. In fact, she slid down right beside him, forcing herself between his body and Hermione's. Harry was afraid to look.  
  
"Weren't you scared?" she asked soothingly, as if she were talking to a small child rather than a boy only a year younger than her. "You were just a third year, weren't you?"  
  
The look on Ron's face then was one that Harry recognized. He had seen it a few times in the past- the last few days of their first year after they'd gone for the Philosopher's Stone, the final weeks of school after the whole Chamber of Secrets thing, for nearly a month after the Second Task in their fourth year, and, of course, the weeks following the 'attack' of Sirius Black in the third year Gryffindor boys' dormitory. It was the look of someone who craved attention continuously finally getting their fifteen minutes of fame. Ron smiled, a far stretch from the nervous stuttering he'd done only seconds before, and nodded proudly.  
  
"Oh, it was terrifying, of course," he said seriously. "I woke up, and there he was... just standing over my bed and holding this knife that must have been... oh, I don't know, two feet long." The entire room was captivated by the story, and Harry knew that if he was asked to tell the story again, Ron would suddenly remember that the knife had really been three feet long.  
  
"So, what happened next?" asked Jamelle, her already large blue eyes widening even more.  
  
Ron shrugged. "Oh, I screamed so he would be caught off guard and run away." Harry rolled his eyes slightly; yes, that had been exactly the reason he had screamed... "But then we, my roommates and I, were just mainly concerned with making sure that everyone else was safe, so we came down here to tell Professor McGonagall." To Harry's rather shocked surprise, Dean, Seamus, and Neville were all nodding along as if that had been exactly the way the night had panned out.  
  
"What did he look like?" Jamelle now had her entire attention focused on Ron, as did the rest of the room.  
  
Ron hesitated for a moment. "Well, he was huge. I mean really, really big- not like you'd expect of someone who had been living in Azkaban for twelve years. And he really looked like a monster; his hair was long, and his face was this deathly pale shade of white."  
  
Harry didn't know whether to be more pissed off by the fact that Ron was giving such a horrible description of Sirius (it wasn't as if he had any choice, but still...) or by the fact that his best friend was being so incredibly and utterly stupid. Hermione looked as if she didn't know whether to cry or scream, and she seemed to be debating whether to hit Ron or to hit Jamelle.  
  
And Ron didn't even notice.  
  
When Jamelle leaned over so far that her hair was actually brushing against Ron's cheek, Hermione got up silently and headed toward the dormitory stairs. Harry doubted if anyone even realized that she'd moved; he knew Ron hadn't.  
  
With a loud sigh, he stood up, too, and announced that he was going to bed. Ron stopped in the middle of a particularly embellished story of how Sirius had whispered death threats to him before the scream had run him off, and he looked up at his best friend questioningly. "It's early."  
  
Harry shrugged. "I'm tired." He turned and started to leave but turned around and looked at Ron. "If I happen to see Hermione, I'll tell her you said good-night."  
  
Ron raised his eyebrows in confusion and turned his head to the spot that Hermione had previously been occupying. Once he finally realized what had happened, he stood up and headed for the dormitory stairs with Harry. Everyone was confused for a moment and a bit put off by the fact that the story had been cut short, but they were all appeased when the conversation turned back to the identity of the mystery cloaked figures.  
  
"You can be a real jackass sometimes," Harry said pointedly as they climbed the stairs and entered the room they'd been sharing for five years.  
  
Ron sent him a quick glare. "Thanks, mate," he said sarcastically.  
  
"I'm serious." Harry dropped beside his bed and rummaged through his trunk. When he found what he was looking for, he pulled it out and tossed it to Ron. "Go apologize."  
  
Ron looked down at the Invisibility Cloak in his hands and then back up at Harry. "Apologize for what? I couldn't very well tell the whole bloody house that Sirius was there looking for Scabbers, now could I?"  
  
"No, you couldn't have," Harry said calmly. "But you didn't have to make up a huge story, either. And as for what you should apologize for, how about telling her you're sorry for being such a great, incredible, insensitive prat?"  
  
Ron opened his mouth in defense, but Harry knew that Ron knew he had no real backup for whatever was about to come out of his mouth. After a moment, he finally just shut it and headed for the door wordlessly.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes as he changed into his pajamas and dropped lazily onto the bed. He wasn't sure why he was giving Ron advice on how to make things right with Hermione when the idea of them together was still more than a bit sickening. He did know, though, that getting them out of the way gave him more time to focus on the things that were really plaguing his mind.  
  
What were the Dementors doing in Hogsmeade?  
  
Who were the cloaked man and woman?  
  
And could they possibly have known that Sirius was in the Shrieking Shack?  
  
Harry wanted desperately to talk to Professor Lupin, but they weren't allowed out of the Common Room, and all of the portraits had been enchanted to alert the proper authorities immediately if someone tried sneaking in or out. He just wanted some sort of reassurance that Sirius had gotten away unnoticed.  
  
And safely.  
  
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The students were all summoned to the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning. It was a Sunday, so several people could be heard complaining about the mandatory morning meal, as the weekends were pretty much a fend- for-yourself sort of time. Everyone stopped complaining when they realized exactly why they were all being assembled.  
  
Professor Dumbledore was going to give them the true details about what had happened the day before.  
  
"The staff and I feel that it is important for you all to know the truth behind the events that took place in Hogsmeade yesterday. The papers will, undoubtedly, be laden with stories, and many of them will most likely be falsities. Letters have already been arriving from parents who are concerned for their child's safety. I will tell you the same thing that I am relaying to those inquiring parents; you are perfectly and completely safe while you are within the school grounds. On the outside, however, I cannot guarantee any such thing, as was proved yesterday. Therefore, all further Hogsmeade visits are cancelled until further notice."  
  
A disappointed murmur went through the crowd of students. Harry heard people all over protesting about how that wasn't fair at all. Harry felt his own stomach drop when he realized that he definitely wouldn't get to talk to Gia or Sirius anymore. It really wasn't fair.  
  
"I truly hope that this matter is sorted out in a timely fashion, so that we may all go back to normal." Dumbledore paused for a moment. "I am sure that by now you are all aware that a small group of Dementors appeared in the town of Hogsmeade yesterday. Those Dementors have been confirmed to be Azkaban guards; I have been officially informed that all of the Dementors guarding the wizarding prison left early yesterday morning, taking at least two of the prison's occupants with them."  
  
That explained the mystery people...  
  
"Two people who have been convicted of murdering and torturing Muggles and wizards alike escaped yesterday. Their names may be unfamiliar to some of you, as you are all too young to really remember the time when these people held such power, but I want to inform you that they are both highly dangerous individuals. I am not telling you this to frighten you, merely to educate you." Another pause and then Dumbledore revealed their identities. "Alexander and Jessica Lestrange are now running free."  
  
The talking started immediately. Harry could see some of the Slytherins' faces light up with excitement, and he could hear many of the confused inquiries about the Lestranges around him. He knew, though, exactly who Alexander and Jessica Lestrange were.  
  
They were two of Voldemort's most loyal supporters, and Harry had heard the Dark Lord himself say how greatly they would be praised.  
  
And the Dementors had rejoined the Dark Side as well. They were truthfully the natural allies.  
  
Harry felt physically ill and forced his breakfast to stay down. He looked across the table to Ron and Hermione, who had obviously made up, and saw the look of questioning they were giving him. He just shook his head in response; it wouldn't do to go around talking about it out in public. He would tell them later in private.  
  
He knew just one thing.  
  
It had really started. And no one was safe.  
  
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A/N: Please review!!!!  
  
Oh, and I will eventually (as soon as I write it) be posting the outtake of what happened between Ron and Hermione in this chapter. It will go up at the Yahoo! discussion group, so if you want to read it (when it's finished), the URL is . 


	57. Ignorance Is Bliss

A/N: Sorry about the delay again, but things are still very busy here.  
  
Oh! I wrote two outtakes for this story. The first is the interlude between Ron and Hermione from the last chapter, and it can be found at the Yahoo! group for this fic. The other is a first person piece written from Draco's point of view as he observes the trio. It fits into the "When Things Start to Change" universe, and it can be read here at fanfiction.net by clicking on my name or at the Yahoo! group as well.  
  
Disclaimer: They are regrettably not mine.  
  
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"Did you know that Manicalt was responsible for over three-hundred people's deaths?" Hermione was hunched over the book she'd bought in Hogsmeade for what seemed like the thousandth time. Harry expected her to start quoting it at any moment, as it seemed she had read it just as many times as she had 'Hogwarts, A History.' Her hair was pulled into a loose ponytail of messy curls, and her uniform was not at all in its usual perfect condition; her blouse was wrinkled and untucked, her tie was loosened over the top three undone buttons, one of her knee socks had completely fallen down around her ankle, and her skit was twisted underneath her. Her wide and alert eyes gave her the appearance of a person who had already overdosed on coffee and was craving more.  
  
The way Ron was staring at her gave him the appearance of someone who was craving Hermione and could never possibly overdose on the indulgence. Apparently, he found her disheveled look quite attractive.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes at the thought. This was just getting to be too much. Hermione was frazzled and rattling off trivia details about a deceased Dark Wizard, Ron was doing far more studying of the girl beside him than he was doing of the Potions essay in front of him, and Harry, though his own essay lay only half-finished in front of him, felt as if he could drop off to sleep at any second.  
  
They really needed some excitement in their lives.  
  
Not that being numbers one through three on the most deathly hit list in the world wasn't simply exhilarating, of course. But still...  
  
Three weeks had passed since the Death Eaters had shown up in Hogsmeade, and they'd been relatively eventless. Nothing much had happened; just a few things here and there were even worth noting. Like the Monday before when Dean had mistook Parvati for Padma and kissed the wrong twin in the middle of the Great Hall, earning a slap from each sister and a very public dumping from Padma, who claimed that if he couldn't even tell them apart then he was definitely not worth her time. Dean was now very high up on the "Boys to Hate List" at Hogwarts, much to the amusement of all of his friends. Only a few other things had even been worth mentioning, like Natalie Macdonald, a second year Gryffindor, falling down half a flight of stairs and breaking her ankle. Or Jason Kristoff, a sixth year Slytherin, turning his hair a rather pukish shade of green in a Potions mishap.  
  
Ginny had been released from the hospital wing the Sunday after the Hogsmeade visit, and she was claiming to feel quite fine. And though Harry couldn't help noticing that her skin was paler than normal and her eyes less vivid, he didn't say anything. He simply went along with the façade that she was trying so hard to present, pretending that he believed her and couldn't notice that she still appeared rather ill. Her fifteenth birthday had arrived in the first weekend of February, leaving her and Ron the same age for what would be a little under a month. Now that Harry had a reason to look, he noticed that she did, in fact, spend quite a bit of time with Colin Creevey, and, if he didn't know better, he would have guessed that Colin was a bit taken with her. After all, Harry had been a very close witness to a similar situation and was rather the expert at catching signals that suggested that one of the two might be interested in something a bit more involved than friendship. Ginny, however, seemed completely oblivious.  
  
"Are you two done with your essays yet?" Hermione's question drew Harry out of his brief lapse in reality and brought him back to the library where he was sitting across from his two best friends.  
  
He glanced down at the parchment in front of him and saw that he still had another foot to write. A brief look at Ron's proved that the redhead had even more. Hermione, of course, had finished her own essay a week before. And she wasted no time at chiding the boys on not following her example.  
  
"You know, if you didn't wait until the last minute to do your homework, you might get better marks." She was scanning over the two paragraphs that Ron had managed to write. "And most of this doesn't even make sense."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes slightly and slumped down a bit in his seat. He picked at a loose splinter of wood on the corner of the table with his thumbnail and ignored her as she continued to point out all of the things wrong with his essay. Harry was actually surprised; he had expected Ron to snatch his paper back and tell Hermione to mind her own business. But he didn't. He just sat there pretending to listen to Hermione's lecture.  
  
Perhaps this was what the term 'whipped' meant.  
  
"Are you listening to me?" Hermione asked briskly, setting the parchment down and looking very pointedly at the writer of the essay.  
  
Ron looked up and grinned. "Of course. I always listen to you."  
  
Hermione studied him suspiciously for a long moment before rolling her own eyes and reaching across the table for Harry's essay. She looked over it and then back across the table.  
  
"Harry, are you aware that the topic is the hidden uses of Mondograss? Silverweed was in the last unit."  
  
Actually, Harry had no idea that the topic was about Mondograss. A quick glance at his assignment page told him that he'd turned to a page from a month earlier without even realizing it.  
  
"I know what the topic is," he said evenly, taking his essay back. "This is just the introduction."  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes again. "Are you both aware that the O.W.L.s are in..."  
  
"Sixteen weeks!" Harry finished shortly. "Yes, Hermione. We are very aware of that." He glanced across the table at Ron, who was still picking away at the wood, obviously doing his best to avoid the argument altogether.  
  
Great bloody lot of help he was.  
  
"You don't have to be rude," Hermione said, pushing her nose slightly into the air. "I was just trying to help you, you know."  
  
"I think the Countdown to the O.W.L.s Calendar that you bewitched for our dorm room is help enough."  
  
Hermione stared at him for a brief moment before they both turned expectant looks to Ron. Ron, however, simply got extremely interested in removing the splinter and didn't look up to meet either of their gazes.  
  
Harry made a mental note to tell everyone he knew that Ron was officially whipped.  
  
"I'm tired," Harry announced, sending an unnoticed glare in his best friend's direction. "I'll finish this tomorrow."  
  
"It's due right after breakfast," Hermione protested.  
  
"Then I'll do it during breakfast."  
  
"You'll get a horrible grade!"  
  
Harry groaned. "I'll get a horrible grade anyway! It's Snape, remember? He'd fail me for breathing if he could!"  
  
"Pity I can't, isn't it?"  
  
The deep cold drawl was unmistakable, and Harry closed his eyes briefly in defeat before slowing turning around to face the very same Snape he'd just been referring to. The professor was smiling rather icily at him, his eyebrows raised in what appeared to be amusement and his arms crossed over his chest.  
  
"Waiting until the last possible minute to finish your assignment, Potter?" he asked keenly. "I believe I assigned that essay a week and a half ago, didn't I?"  
  
"No, sir," Hermione spoke up. "It's only been a week."  
  
"Was I speaking to you, Miss Granger?" His head snapped in her direction, and he shot her a rather unflattering look. "And good God, you look a mess! Regardless of whatever activities," he shot a brief glance in Ron's direction, "you have been engaging in, you should still at least attempt to look presentable. I know that might be a difficult task, but you could at least try."  
  
Hermione turned bright red, and her eyes filled with tears as she reached down to pull up her fallen sock and tried to twist her skirt around to its proper position. Harry felt blood rush to his ears, and his vision grew blurry as it so often did around the Potions professor. There was absolutely no excuse to go around insulting people, especially Hermione, who had never been anything but respectable and intelligent to all of her teachers, the bastard in front of them included. Ron looked so furious that Harry had a half-thought of Ron jumping up and decking the teacher, though thankfully he had enough sense and control not to.  
  
"And you should do something about your hair. It should be properly restrained, not just tossed about and pinned up carelessly." Snape was on a roll, and Harry had had too much.  
  
And anyway, Snape had absolutely no room to criticize anyone else's hair when his looked as if it hadn't seen shampoo since Voldemort's first rise to power.  
  
He looked straight at the professor and very evenly said, "Leave her alone."  
  
It was a wonder that Snape's neck didn't break as he snapped his head in Harry's direction. "Excuse me, Potter? What did you say?"  
  
"I said to leave her alone," Harry repeated slowly.  
  
"Do not think that just because you are worshipped by some brainless idiots that you have the right to start giving your professors orders, Potter," he said snakily. "You will respect me, do you understand?"  
  
Harry ignored his question. "Hermione didn't even do anything!"  
  
"Your friend, I am afraid," Snape went on, "has a problem with impertinence. It is a trait most unbecoming of a young lady, and I do not tolerate silly little girls who think they know more than people who are over twice their age." He looked once more to Hermione. "Just because you know more than these two does not make you intelligent, understand?"  
  
Hermione was quite obviously still fighting the tears that were threatening to fall.  
  
Ron appeared to be trying to decide which Unforgivable Curse would cause Snape the most pain. Harry was glad that his best friend wasn't even attempting to speak.  
  
"She was not being impertinent!" Harry protested loudly. "She finished your damn essay the day you assigned it, and she was just pointing out that you were wrong!"  
  
Harry shut his mouth immediately, realizing far too late that he had gone far too far.  
  
"Twenty-five points from Gryffindor and a detention, Potter." Snape glared at him. "And I will make sure that the Headmaster knows that you apparently find yourself so far above the rules that you think it is okay to swear at your professors. Not to mention cite them as wrong," he added evenly.  
  
Harry didn't say anything. He didn't reckon that pointing out that he would never swear at any of the other professors was a good idea. And he didn't trust himself enough not to reach for his wand and practice the very same curses Ron was apparently concentrating on.  
  
With another long glare, Snape turned around and stalked toward the exit of the library, his black robes flowing lazily behind him.  
  
The second he was gone, Harry turned back around to Hermione, who was very close to losing the battle she was raging against her own tears. "Hermione, don't listen to him," he said instantly. "You know he's nothing but an asshole."  
  
She just shot a downcast look at the table and bit hard into her lower lip. For someone who could punch Draco Malfoy, banter with the Slytherins, and row for ages with Ron, she had never been able to take any sort of criticism from the teachers, including the slimy git that resided in the dungeons.  
  
When the first tear finally broke through and slid down her cheek, Ron let out such a slur of swearing that Harry was just waiting on Madame Pince to come rushing over and take even more points from Gryffindor. He shot Ron a look that gave away his worry, and Ron, after opening and closing his mouth wordlessly several times finally shut up with a very loud huff of indignation.  
  
"Please don't cry," Harry said softly, moving to where he could sit on the desk in front of her. "He's not worth it."  
  
"I know." Hermione brushed away at the tears as she spoke quietly. "I know he's not."  
  
"He's just some miserable old man with no life who wants to make everyone else miserable, too." Ron spoke with such a certain vengeance that it was nearly impossible not to believe him, and Hermione brushed away the last of her tears, obviously determined not to allow any others to fall.  
  
She looked up slowly at Harry. "I'm sorry I got you in trouble," she said softly.  
  
"You didn't get me in trouble," he said assuredly. "I got myself in trouble."  
  
"You really shouldn't swear at a teacher." Even now, she found it impossible to resist scolding him.  
  
Harry actually rather enjoyed it; it gave him a sense of normalcy.  
  
"I know. I'll keep that in mind."  
  
She smiled half-heartedly at him. "And I'm sorry for nagging you so much about your homework."  
  
"Nah," he shrugged his shoulders. "If you didn't nag me, how would I ever get anything done?"  
  
Hermione managed a laugh, though it was clear that she was still struggling. It was better than nothing, though, and Harry grinned at her once more to let her know that things were fine. "These chairs are bothering me, though, so I'm gonna work on this upstairs in the dorm, okay?" He leaned over and tugged at her ponytail. "But I promise it'll be done by breakfast."  
  
She jerked her head back. "It better be," she said seriously, though her eyes gave way to the light that she was teasing.  
  
"Yes, ma'am." He slid off the desk, and she stood up, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him.  
  
"Goodnight." She pulled back slightly and smiled at him- a real smile.  
  
"Night," he returned, leaning in to peck her quickly on the cheek, something he'd never really done before.  
  
Of course, it was in a completely innocent, non-attracted, platonic way.  
  
Releasing her from the hug, he walked around her chair, and on his way out, he slapped Ron across the back of the head, still not fully forgiving him for being so totally whipped that he wouldn't even side with him in an argument. Ron, as if able to read his mind (they were a couple of Trelawney's top students, after all), looked up at him sheepishly and shrugged.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes, gathered up his books, and left.  
  
Hermione, still standing, reached for the elastic that was holding her hair up and started tugging at it to release it, but Ron caught her elbow. "No, leave it up."  
  
She turned around to look at him, her forehead wrinkled slightly in confusion. "Why? It probably really does look a mess."  
  
Ron, still hanging onto her elbow, sent her an embarrassed smile. "It looks... nice."  
  
She hid her own smile at seeing him flustered. She enjoyed the fact that he still got embarrassed sometimes when trying to pay her a compliment, and his pink blush was something she knew would always be attractive.  
  
He was just adorable. Really.  
  
Teasing him, she said, "And what? I guess you think this uniform is nice, too, huh?"  
  
It was her turn to blush when Ron scanned his eyes down and then back up her body. "Yeah, actually," he admitted quietly. "It looks much better this way."  
  
She rolled her eyes and reached up to fix her top three buttons, but Ron, who still had her elbow, pulled her arm back down. "That looks much better, too."  
  
Hermione stared at him in half-shock for a moment before bursting into laughter. "You are a pervert," she said pointedly.  
  
"Really?" Ron grinned. "Didn't think you'd noticed."  
  
She rolled her eyes yet again and jerked her arm back haughtily. "You'd be surprised," she muttered, turning back around to face the table and his still unfinished essay. "Now, are you going to finish this or not?"  
  
Ron leaned around her and propped his elbow onto the table, resting his chin in his hand and looking up at her. "Are you going to help me?"  
  
She looked down and considered him for a second. Finally giving in, she sighed dejectedly. "You know, I should be mad at you for not taking my side earlier."  
  
Ron's face fell slightly. "I..."  
  
"But I'm not," she finished. "I would be incensed if you had taken Harry's side, though. I guess I can't censure you for not wanting to incriminate yourself by staying neutral."  
  
"If I had any clue what you were saying, I'm sure I would agree," Ron said seriously, and she laughed, turning on her heel to face him again. He leaned back in his chair and watched her.  
  
"Well, in answer to your earlier question," she said primly, "yes, I will help you. But I'm not writing it for you," she added instantly. "That's no proper way to learn."  
  
"Of course it isn't," he agreed firmly. "Not proper at all."  
  
Hermione pursed her lips and perched herself onto the desk just as Harry had. She crossed one leg over the other, her foot jingling slightly as she once again reached for the essay and scanned it.  
  
"Really," she said after a moment, "this isn't all that bad. It's just not detailed enough is all. At least you got the topic right," she added with a grin, glancing up and catching the look he was giving her. "What?" she asked, suddenly self-conscious under his gaze.  
  
Ron shrugged noncommittally. "Nothing. You're just really pretty is all."  
  
"You flatter me," she said in mock-drama. "You're just sucking up, so I'll write your paper."  
  
He shrugged again. "Maybe."  
  
Hermione's mouth fell open in an indignant gasp. The Mary Jane clad foot that was jingling over her knee kicked forward in an attempt to hit his chest, but Ron caught it just in time.  
  
"But probably not." He grinned at her as he released her foot and reached for the parchment in her hand.  
  
************************************  
  
Two hours later, Harry heard Ron come up to bed. He knew it was Ron because Dean, Seamus, and Neville were all sleeping already, just as Harry was pretending to be. It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to his friend; he was just more adept to keeping to himself late at night.  
  
It was completely normal for him to be awake after everyone else was asleep. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a full night of sleep, and though he spent most of his days battling the incessant need to nap, he couldn't help the insomnia that seemed to overtake him each night.  
  
There was so much to think about.  
  
Obviously with Voldemort rising once again to power, Harry was worried that he might not be witness to his sixteenth birthday, but he usually tried not to think about it too much. Of course, trying and succeeding were two very different things, as he'd learned long ago. What worried him even more was the possibility that his best friends might not see their own birthdays.  
  
Harry had accepted his Fate long ago, but he was still having trouble adjusting to the idea that Ron and Hermione were expected to accept the same. It just didn't seem right.  
  
As far as Harry could see, they didn't even have anything to do with all of this, other than the fact that they happened to be friends with him. They'd never had attempts on their lives by Voldemort or any Death Eaters. They'd never caused the Darkest Wizard of all time to live in exile for thirteen years. Their parents had never been murdered by the same Dark Wizard.  
  
And yet there was some ancient prophecy that included them as much as it did him.  
  
It just didn't make sense.  
  
Harry was just thankful that neither of them seemed to be plagued with the same horrible visions that he saw each time he closed his eyes. He saw things that no person should ever see, especially a child of fifteen years old. He often found it difficult to think of himself as a child when he felt more like fifty than fifteen; he'd been through more things than most people twice his age. He'd had enough heartache to last him three lifetimes.  
  
And he was just fifteen.  
  
He heard Ron get into bed and saw the last light in the dormitory go out, leaving the room blanketed in thick darkness. Harry lay back against his own pillows and stared aimlessly up into the blackness. His Potions essay was done, copied mostly from Dean, who had given him his paper and just said to make sure he changed enough to not get caught. There were a million other things that he could be doing instead of lying pointlessly in a bed that he knew would not help him sleep. The O.W.L.s were, after all, only in sixteen weeks. There was a Transfiguration exam coming up at the end of the week, and Professor Lupin had assigned them a two feet long essay on the punishments for using illegal curses that was due the following Wednesday. But, as usual, Harry wasn't in the mood to do any homework.  
  
Stretching, he sat up and reached under his pillow for his wand, whispering a quiet "Lumos!" that he hoped his roommates didn't notice. A stack of parchment was sitting on his beside table, and Harry reached through the hangings to retrieve a few empty sheets and the self-inking quill that Hermione had given him for Christmas.  
  
He would write to Gia.  
  
That always made him feel better.  
  
He was getting quite used to exchanging stories with her via owl post, as they had no other choice. And with his endless nights of sleeplessness, his letters were continuously getting longer and more detailed. Of course, he never wrote to her about his nightmares or any of the reasons he was even having them in the first place. He somehow didn't think she would take too well to knowing that he was wanted dead by hundreds of evil wizards around the continent; he preferred for her to stay with the belief that Hogwarts was simply a magnificent place of wonder and fantasy. He wrote instead about Quidditch practices, his classes, his friends, and the latest pranks that Fred and George had decided to pull.  
  
Things were just safer like that.  
  
Worrying about Ron and Hermione was tiring enough. He didn't want to worry about Gia worrying about him. There was simply no point in it.  
  
Perhaps ignorance really was bliss.  
  
**********************************  
  
I know this one was sort of pointless, but the next chapters are pretty rough and angsty, so I decided to go ahead and knock this one out of the way.  
  
I would love it if you would leave feedback!!!  
  
Don't forget to check out the outtakes. The Draco one is here at fanfiction.net and at the Yahoo! group. The Ron/Hermione one is only at the Yahoo! location.  
  
The URL is: groups.yahoo.com/group/when_things_change/  
  
Check them out!!! 


	58. A Brother and Sister

A/N: Not a long delay, huh? Thanks for the reviews on the last part! This part spells A-N-G-S-T...  
  
Disclaimer: Nope!  
  
*************************************  
  
If there was one person in his family that Ron related to more than all of the others, it was Ginny.  
  
When they were younger, they'd been forced into being playmates, mostly because of the fact that the older children rarely deemed to acknowledge that they even existed, much less played with them. Ginny hadn't seen anything wrong with the arrangement, as she was quite content with the situation. Ron, though, was a boy, and as such, he was always eager to gain his brothers' attention.  
  
Unfortunately, most of the attention bestowed upon him was in the way of a makeshift punching bag.  
  
That, of course, was where Ginny came in quite handy. She was very much the baby. And she was very much a girl. As far as Ron knew, he was the only one who had ever gotten into a physical fight with his sister. Bill and Charlie had spoiled her senselessly from the time she was born, and Percy had always seemed far too busy to be bothered. The twins might have shoved her around from time to time. And locked her in a few closets. And there was that time that George tried to drown her in the pond... But as far as a real knock-down, drag-out fight, none of them except for Ron had ever had the pleasure of participating in one of those against Ginny.  
  
Ron had, surprisingly, participated in quite a few of those with his sister.  
  
They were good friends when they were younger, yes, but they were also each the youngest in their own rite. Ginny was the youngest overall, and Ron was the youngest of the boys. And with less than a year of age difference between them, competition was to be expected.  
  
Growing up, Ron had often despised his life. He was the youngest of six boys but not quite the youngest of the family. The youngest also happened to be the only girl, which only seemed to double her attention-getting ability. Ginny, though, had often whined about being the only girl, and she claimed to hate the fact that she was the baby. Ron was jealous of Ginny because she got more attention, and Ginny was jealous of Ron because he fit in a little better with the rest of their siblings.  
  
And naturally, out of such jealousy, a small rivalry was born. And with that rivalry came the obvious fights.  
  
Ron could remember several occasions when a heated argument had turned into shoving and then into full-out fighting. Ginny's weak spot had always been her hair, and Ron had grown quite accustomed to yanking on long red pigtails. Ginny knew the perfect retaliation, though, and her teeth marks had sometimes taken up to three days to disappear from his arm. One particularly nasty fight had been the cause of Ginny losing her first tooth, and Ron had been forced to face the humiliation of walking around for a full week with a black eye given to him by his little sister.  
  
Things between them had never been helped by the fact that they'd had to share a room for the first years of their lives, either. Ron had been eight years old and Ginny seven when Bill had finally graduated and moved away from home, leaving an empty bedroom, but up until that year, they'd been forced to share a space with each other, which had not been the ideal arrangement for two people who had serious problems with breaking the other's things.  
  
And, of course, each time a toy was broken or an item of clothing disappeared, another fight would ensue.  
  
The unfairness that always followed one of their fights still baffled Ron. He had always gotten in more trouble than she had, whether he had started the fight or was just defending himself. His parents had always been quite cross with him over the brawls and had often scolded him relentlessly, their favorite quote being, "She's smaller than you!" And Ginny never failed to go crying to one of their older brothers, which always caused them to take their anger out on the littlest brother for daring to hit their sweet, precious, adorable, angelic little sister.  
  
And shockingly, they never got in trouble for fighting with someone smaller than them...  
  
However, despite all the fights that the two youngest Weasley siblings had engaged in and despite all of the blackened eyes, bloodied noses, and bruised ribs, they had still emerged from their childhood with a bond deeper than was shared with any of their other siblings. Bill and Charlie had always been close, Fred and George had always been inseparable, Percy had always been... well... Percy.  
  
And Ron and Ginny had something altogether different.  
  
They weren't the oldest in the family and hadn't grown up with the common task of trying to run a twenty-four hour baby-sitting service. Neither of them was a self-helping, independent, pompous loaner. They weren't identical twins, connected by a bond of friendship that went deeper than any genetic bond could go.  
  
They were a brother and a sister who fought, argued, tattled on each other, battled for their parents' attention, and drew imaginary lines down the center of their room to separate their small space.  
  
In other words, they were completely, totally, and undeniably normal.  
  
And just as is the case with all completely, totally, and undeniably normal siblings, there was an "I can mess with them, but don't you dare even attempt it" attitude shared by both of them in relation to the other. Ron dreaded the day that Ginny got a boyfriend because he was sure that he would hate the idiot and never fully forgive him for whatever he 'might' be doing with Ginny. And he was thankful that he hadn't really seen anyone at Hogwarts pick on her because he was pretty positive that he might get expelled for killing them.  
  
It was because of this attitude that Ron made the final decision that everyone involved in the situation that had seemingly traumatized his sister would pay for their sins.  
  
In blood.  
  
Really, there were only two people directly involved in it, but those two people had managed to cause enough damage for a hundred people. And for that, they would pay.  
  
He was referring, of course, to the whole Tom Riddle/diary/Chamber of Secrets thing. The two people involved were obviously Tom Riddle himself, better known these days as You Know Who, and none other than Mr. Lucius Malfoy- darling Draco's dear dad.  
  
Truthfully, he probably wouldn't get the chance to murder You Know Who, as that was more Harry's gig. But Mr. Malfoy- that was a whole other story.  
  
Ron hadn't really thought about it while it was happening, but now that he was older and wiser (and he was, really), he was able to draw the conclusion that Lucius Malfoy was nothing more than a spineless coward. If he was anything else, he would have picked someone other than a naïve little eleven year old schoolgirl to do his bidding.  
  
Honestly. Who picks on an eleven year old little girl?  
  
But Ginny wasn't eleven anymore. She was fifteen now, and she was still being tortured by the memories of what they'd done to her.  
  
But they would pay. Ron would make damn well sure of that.  
  
Ginny, though she was claiming to feel fine, was anything but fine. She was tired and drained and vulnerable. And she was spending far too much time up in her dormitory away from the commotion of the Common Room. She had started the year exuberant and cheerful, and now, as the second term rolled on, she had retreated back to behaving like the shy, scared child that she'd been when she'd first come to Hogwarts.  
  
And it was all because of that damn diary.  
  
The night weeks before when Harry had woken him up in the middle of the night to inform him that Ginny was in the Common Room crying had been the start of it all over again. She'd gone to the hospital, had been released, and was now claiming that she was perfectly alright. Ron hadn't pushed it. He preferred to allow her to present the invincible shield that she had worked so hard on creating. But when she missed both breakfast and lunch one day in the middle of February, he started to get concerned.  
  
"Have you seen Ginny?" He'd asked the twins first because even though Ginny didn't want them to know about her mini-relapse, they were her brothers, and if something was wrong, they had a right to know.  
  
Fred had glanced up and down the table, as though he thought Ron hadn't already scanned the Great Hall. "She wasn't at breakfast, either, was she?" he asked coolly.  
  
Ron shook his head.  
  
"Maybe she's got a big project coming up and has to study," George suggested nonchalantly. Apparently, they weren't too concerned about the whereabouts of their sister.  
  
Ron rolled his eyes and decided to try another approach. He walked away from the twins and settled himself across from Colin Creevey and Rachel Ellington. Both of the fourth years looked up when he questioned them.  
  
"Do you know where my sister is?"  
  
"She doesn't feel well," Rachel poured herself another glass of pumpkin juice. "I woke her up this morning, but she didn't get out of bed."  
  
"What's wrong with her?"  
  
Rachel shrugged. "She said her head was hurting, but she's been feeling sick a lot lately, so it wasn't a surprise."  
  
"When has she been sick?" Every time Ron had seen Ginny in the past few weeks, she'd told him she was feeling just fine.  
  
Rachel shrugged again. "Every single night she goes to bed before anyone else. She's always saying her head hurts, but I think she's just been sleeping too much."  
  
Ron forgot to thank Rachel for her information before he stood up and headed for the door of the Great Hall. He had double Defense Against the Dark Arts in twenty-five minutes, and he didn't want to be late, as Professor Lupin was sure to ream him for tardiness. However, Ginny was far more important than getting blessed out by a teacher, and if something was wrong with Ginny, Ron was going to find out.  
  
Ten minutes later, he'd made it back up to Gryffindor Tower. The few people who had returned to the Tower on the lunch break were all heading for the door on their own ways out to class. He didn't pay any of them attention; he simply walked toward the stairs leading up to the girls' side of the Tower and headed up to the second landing where the fourth years were.  
  
The door was closed, and Ron, not knowing for sure if Ginny was the only one in the room, knocked loudly on the wood. No answer came, and Ron tried again. Silence was still his only answer, so, convinced that none of Ginny's roommates were inside, Ron slowly opened the door.  
  
The afternoon light was dim, but with the windows open, it was still possible to see into every corner of the room. There were six beds in the long room, and Ginny's was the one closest to the opposite wall. He'd only ever been in this room on the Christmas holidays when Ginny was the only of her roommates left at school, but he knew well enough where her bed was, and he had crossed the room in record time.  
  
His sister was lying on her back, the curtains surrounding her bed only half-pulled. Ginny's eyes were closed, and her face was eerily calm, though it was a deathly pale shade of white and her forehead was covered in a thin layer of perspiration. Her hair, which was as long as Hermione's and hung far past her shoulders, fanned out beneath her in a rather scary reflection of a halo. Ron, who had never thought of his sister as being anywhere near angelic enough to have a halo, stared for a moment.  
  
And a chill ran through his body.  
  
"Ginny?" he called her name quietly, frightened for a moment to reach out and touch her in fear of disturbing the calm peacefulness she was emitting. When she gave no sign of having heard him, he called her again. "Ginny, wake up."  
  
Her head tilted slightly to the side, and he thought for a moment that she was waking up. However, her eyes remained closed, and she barely whispered something that made the earlier chill return full-force.  
  
"No, Tom..."  
  
"It's me, Ginny," he said, wasting no time in laying his hand on her shoulder and shaking her gently. "Come on, wake up."  
  
"But I can't, Tom..." was the only answer. She turned her head more to the side and flinched under his touch.  
  
Ron, having no idea what else to do, shook her roughly. "Wake up," he commanded sharply.  
  
And it worked. Two pools of chocolate brown were revealed behind the heavy lids that Ginny forced open. She looked up at Ron as if seeing him for the first time and being confused as to who he was. A second later, though, she sat straight up.  
  
"What time is it?" was her first question as she glanced around the empty dormitory.  
  
"After one," he answered blankly. "What's wrong with you?"  
  
"What?" she asked, her voice giving way to the fact that she was just a bit too jumpy. "Nothing's wrong with me."  
  
"Why didn't you go to class?"  
  
"I overslept," she said, carefully avoiding his eyes as she moved to get up from the bed. His hand, which was still on her shoulder, stopped her.  
  
"Rachel said she woke you up, and you said you didn't feel good."  
  
Ginny was quiet for a second before shrugging nonchalantly. "So, I had a headache. It's gone now." She moved once again to get up. "If I hurry, I can still make it to my afternoon classes."  
  
"You're late already," he said simply. "And you're not going anyway."  
  
Ginny stopped trying to get up and stared at him in what was obviously stunned disbelief. "What do you mean I'm not going?" she asked in a very controlled voice.  
  
"You're not that thick, Gin," he answered with a pointed gaze. "Figure it out."  
  
She stared at him for another long moment before throwing back her comforter and swinging her feet over the side of the bed. Ron tightened his grip on her shoulder, keeping her seated. Ginny, obviously growing angry, finally just shoved him and stood up.  
  
"You're not going to class," he repeated seriously, standing up in an attempt to throw some authority around.  
  
"You can't tell me what to do," she said haughtily. "And I am going."  
  
"No, you're not."  
  
"Try and stop me!" she dared, her eyes opening wider.  
  
This time Ron shoved Ginny. Right back onto her bed. She let out a gasp of indignation and glared at him.  
  
"You're not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going on."  
  
"Don't swear at me," she said furiously, though it was a rich demand coming from any of the Weasley children. Well, maybe not Percy...  
  
"Shut up, Ginny," he said briskly. "And tell me what's wrong."  
  
"Nothing is wrong!" she cried loudly, though the slight crack in her voice gave her away.  
  
Ron rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Ginny, I'm the one who taught you how to lie. You can't fool me."  
  
"Why does something always have to be wrong?" she demanded shrilly, completely ignoring his statement. "Can't I just have a headache without being interrogated?!"  
  
"No!" he said hotly, finally losing his temper. "I know what's going on, and you're not going anywhere until you admit it!"  
  
"What the hell are you doing in here anyway?" she asked loudly.  
  
"Don't avoid the question."  
  
"I'm not admitting anything!" She flung herself backwards on her bed and crossed her arms over her chest angrily. Ron was strongly reminded of the stubborn kid she had been whenever she got into one of her rather frequent pouting moods.  
  
"Then I'm not leaving." Ron sat down and crossed his own arms.  
  
She glared at him. "I'll tell Mum and Dad," she threatened seriously.  
  
Ron just shrugged. "Well, then I guess I'll have to tell them the reason I was up here, won't I?"  
  
"Leave me alone!" Her voice rose about ten octaves as she sat up and stared furiously at him. Familiar tears were pooling in the bottom of her eyes, but she was obviously refusing to let them fall.  
  
"If nothing's wrong, then why are you crying?" he challenged smoothly.  
  
"I'm not!" She didn't reach up and physically wipe the tears away, but it was obvious that she was trying to will them away.  
  
"Did you forget that I know you better than anyone here?" He stared expectantly at her. "I know when you're lying, and I know when you're crying. So just stop trying to deny it."  
  
"Why are you bothering me?" she asked, her voice weakened greatly.  
  
Ron sighed. "I'm not trying to bother you," he said honestly. "But I want you to tell me the truth."  
  
"Why?" she asked exasperatedly. "Why does it even matter to you?"  
  
Ron rolled his eyes. "Hmm..." he said sarcastically. "Maybe because I thought you were my sister there for a minute. But I could have been mistaken, you know..."  
  
She sighed, and her lower lip protruded just slightly from her under her top one. She looked extremely young, though her eyes were wide with something that was the exact opposite of childhood innocence.  
  
Her eyes revealed the fact that she was a young woman, scarred for life by a terrifying event in her childhood. Her eyes had seen far more than they should have in the short years of her life.  
  
And she looked positively frightened beyond belief.  
  
Finally, in so soft of a voice that Ron had to strain to hear her, she admitted it. "I'm scared."  
  
"Tell me what's going on." Ron was no longer being sharp or sarcastic with her. He was simply being honest.  
  
"He's back, and I can feel him." Revealing this seemed to be causing her pain. "He's there every time I close my eyes. And I try not to sleep at all, but I can't seem to do anything else. It's like all the energy is gone from me."  
  
"Why haven't you said something?"  
  
She shook her head and looked away.  
  
"Ginny," he said again, "why haven't you said anything?"  
  
"Because I'm embarrassed!" she finally blurted out.  
  
Ron was beyond confused. "What are you embarrassed about? None of this is your fault."  
  
Ginny just rolled her eyes slightly. "All of it is my fault."  
  
"No, it's not," he said firmly. "I've told you that before. Nothing was your fault."  
  
"If I hadn't been so stupid, I could have fought him in the first place, and none of this would be happening!"  
  
Ron, knowing fully well that he wasn't going to convince Ginny of anything different, simply shook his head and changed the direction of the subject. "You should have said something before," he said calmly. "This is serious."  
  
"And what if I had said something?" she demanded hotly. "What then? You would have run off and told Dumbledore, and he would have told Mum and Dad, and they would have yanked me back home, and then I would never be able to finish school! Is that what you want to happen?"  
  
"Don't be daft," he said fleetingly. "You know good and well that it wouldn't have happened like that."  
  
"Oh, really? Well, then just how would it have happened?"  
  
Ron was stumped. In all honesty, that was exactly how it would have happened. His parents wouldn't dare allow Ginny to stay in Hogwarts; they'd have her at home so quickly, half her roommates probably wouldn't even know she'd gone missing. Their mother and father were just a bit too overprotective of their children, Ginny especially, and if they thought she was in any danger similar to the mess she'd gotten into four years ago, they wouldn't stand for her being anywhere except safely and soundly at home. So, not wanting to admit that he was wrong, Ron did the next best thing.  
  
He lied.  
  
"I wouldn't have run to Dumbledore."  
  
Ginny just looked at him. "You taught me how to lie, remember?" she asked in a recap of the question he'd posed earlier. "I recognize all the signals."  
  
"Ginny, just listen to me, damn it!" he said, now full to the brim with exasperation. He was eleven months older than her, and he was bloody well about to use that age difference to enforce his demand. "Tell me what you want me to do if you don't want me to tell anyone else."  
  
His sister, in another seemingly 'low' moment, closed her eyes just briefly. "I don't want you to do anything."  
  
"So, you expect me to just sit around while you go through this and pretend it isn't happening?" Clearly, he did not plan on obliging her.  
  
But Ginny nodded. "Yes."  
  
"Bullshit."  
  
"Ron, just stop," she said, a twisted frown covering her face and her eyes threatening to tear up again. "You don't even know what's happening exactly."  
  
"Then tell me!"  
  
She tilted her head back for a moment and then shook it with closed eyes. Opening them again, she looked at him. "I don't want to."  
  
"Virginia Charlotte," he said sharply, not knowing why he was suddenly sounding so similar to their mother, "We've told each other everything all our lives. Why won't you tell me what's really happening? Don't you trust me?"  
  
She just stared at him. "We've not exactly been close these past few years," she pointed out, and he thought he heard a slight bitterness in her tone. "You have new best friends, remember? Or did you forget about them?"  
  
Ron didn't have any idea why she was suddenly holding resentment toward Harry and Hermione. "That's completely different," he said, not bothering to ask why she'd sounded so bitter. "Yeah, I have friends, and so do you. But you're my sister, Ginny. You should be able to trust me enough to tell me when something's wrong."  
  
A look of guilt covered Ginny's delicate features, and she looked down at the bed. Quietly, she said, "I do trust you."  
  
"Then let me help you." He was well-aware of the fact that his voice was now pleading, but it didn't matter. This was Ginny.  
  
This was his sister.  
  
A long moment of silence droned on, and Ron thought that she was going to refuse again. This was getting to be quite tiring. Thankfully, though, she finally spoke.  
  
"If I tell you, do you promise not to tell anyone else?"  
  
Ron looked at her, taking in the intense look of fear that was still so present in the brown of her eyes, seeing the way she looked to be physically in pain as she sorted out her thoughts, and watching the way she was begging him with her eyes to understand.  
  
"I won't tell," he said quietly, not able to keep the slightly creeped out tone away from his voice.  
  
"No one, Ron," she clarified. "Not even Harry."  
  
He nodded slightly. "Okay."  
  
"Or Hermione," she added seriously. "Especially not Hermione."  
  
Ron was confused. "Okay... But I thought you and Hermione were friends."  
  
"We are," she said seriously. "But I don't want her to know about this." She pursed her lips for a second and questioned him with her eyes. "I mean, come on. You know how she is. She'd pester me to tell a teacher until she went right ahead and drove me completely mad. No offense," she added quickly.  
  
Ron wasn't sure why he was supposed to take offense to that statement, but he shrugged anyway in response. "Okay, I won't tell her. I won't tell anyone."  
  
"Swear?"  
  
He nodded. "I swear."  
  
And the silence was back. Ginny appeared to be gathering up all of her thoughts and gathering up enough bravery to finally admit them. Ron waited patiently, aware that he was now extremely late for Lupin's class but not really caring too much at all.  
  
A single tear slid down Ginny's colorless cheek, but Ron pretended not to notice. He didn't even think that Ginny noticed.  
  
When she finally decided to speak again her voice was timid and quiet, as though she were a shy child speaking to a stranger for the first time. "I didn't hate him."  
  
Ron had no idea what she was talking about. The most intelligent question he could manage, though, was, "Huh?"  
  
"Tom Riddle," she said, if possible even quieter than before. "I didn't hate him."  
  
"Wha..." Ron drew in a bewildered breath. "What? I don't understand what you mean."  
  
Ginny looked away again, her teeth chewing mindlessly on her bottom lip.  
  
"I thought he was my friend... Even when I knew who he was, I couldn't hate him." Another tear fell, but neither of them noticed it. Ginny seemed suddenly faraway as she spoke, and Ron was trying to process her words. "And..." she choked slightly on her next words. "And I... I liked it."  
  
"Liked it?" Ron bit the words out in repetition before he even realized it. "Liked what?!" He didn't mean to sound so harsh, but it was no use.  
  
And then Ginny started to cry for real. They weren't loud sobs, as she was so prone to releasing; her tears flowed silently but in great strength.  
  
"It's awful, I know!" she said hastily, wiping furiously at her eyes with the heels of her hands.  
  
"What did you like?" he asked again, not making any move to comfort her.  
  
"When he'd make do things..." She buried her face fully into her hands. "When he was in control, I felt... powerful. And I liked it."  
  
"You liked it..." he repeated quietly, looking away and running the words over in his head.  
  
"Stop saying it!" she cried. "I know it's horrible!"  
  
She liked it.  
  
She'd almost killed people.  
  
She'd almost killed Hermione.  
  
And she had liked it.  
  
"That's why I couldn't fight him." She managed to go on through her tears. "He said I didn't want to fight him."  
  
"Did you?" Ron turned his head and looked straight into the eyes of his younger sister.  
  
"I don't know," she admitted breathlessly. "I don't know what I wanted."  
  
Ron had no idea what to do with the information she'd just presented to him. Part of him wanted to be disgusted by her and shove her away. The larger part, though, wanted to hug her and tell her that he wouldn't let anything happen to her.  
  
He did neither.  
  
Instead, he just questioned her further. "But you tried to get rid of the diary."  
  
She nodded slightly. "Yeah. Because I knew it was wrong. Because I knew I would get in trouble if I got caught." Each word seemed to agonize her even more.  
  
"So, that's the only reason you wanted to stop? Because you were scared of getting in trouble?" He wasn't sure he even wanted to know the answer.  
  
Ginny half-shrugged/half-shook her head. "I don't know... I mean, yeah, but no." More tears fell. "He always asked me questions about Harry, and I thought... I thought he was going to make me do something to Harry, and I... I was scared. Because you were always with Harry."  
  
"But Hermione..." The puzzle just didn't fit.  
  
"I know!" she said desperately. "And I'm sorry! I swear to God I'm sorry! About all of it!"  
  
Ron didn't doubt that she was sorry, but it still didn't add up. "If you were worried about me and you were worried about Harry... then why weren't you worried about Hermione?"  
  
This was the point where Ginny finally lost it. She started sobbing and sank down into the bed, smothering her face in the pillow. Ron barely heard her words. He wished he hadn't.  
  
"Because I didn't like her... And I didn't care..."  
  
Ron just stared, completely stunned by this revelation. Ginny sobbed into the pillow, and a long, long moment passed before Ron finally found his voice again.  
  
"You didn't care? Because you didn't like her?" He hated the way his own voice broke on the last part of the question, but it didn't stop him. He was suddenly overcome with a furious rage. "You could have killed her! She could have died because of you!"  
  
He realized far too sharply how much saying that sentence affected him, and he flinched as an almost physical pain shot through him.  
  
And he wasn't sure which terrified him more- the fact that the sentence was true or the fact that he could barely draw breath at the mere thought of it.  
  
Ginny, though, was far too gone to even respond. She just sobbed louder, her body shaking in a violent shuddering. "Please don't hate me," she begged in broken, barely audible, tearful sobs.  
  
And then Ron stopped being angry. He didn't hate her, couldn't hate her.  
  
He loved her.  
  
And he realized that the crying teenager in front of him was not a mean person; he'd known her since the day she'd been born.  
  
He knew it wasn't her fault.  
  
"Ginny," he said quietly, forcing his voice to stay even and calm. "Ginny, come here."  
  
He reached for her shoulders and lifted her up slightly, turning her around so that she could turn her sobs into his shoulder. And he let her cry.  
  
For a straight hour, he let her cry.  
  
And afterwards, when she'd calmed down enough, he asked her why she hadn't liked Hermione.  
  
With tears still sliding randomly down her cheeks, she struggled to breath properly. "I was... I was just jealous of her."  
  
"Jealous?" Ron tucked a flyaway lock of red behind her ear.  
  
And Ginny nodded, her shoulders still shaking slightly. "Because she was so bossy... And you and Harry still liked her." She looked away. "And I wasn't used to you liking any other girls. And... I didn't think you liked me anymore."  
  
"Why did..." But Ron knew exactly why she thought that. He'd given her no reason to believe otherwise. "Ginny, I am so sorry," he said seriously.  
  
She shook her head. "It's not your fault. It's mine." She had finally managed to get her emotions back under control, though she was still struggling slightly with her breath.  
  
"No," he said firmly. "It's not your fault. You were too young, and you didn't know any better." He looked at her intently. "And it was not your fault."  
  
Ginny didn't try to contradict him, though it was clear that she wasn't convinced. Instead, she just went back to the main reason they were having this conversation. "But he's back... And what if I can't fight him this time? It won't be because I'm too young."  
  
Ron didn't know what to say. He hoped that she wouldn't have to face that, but he knew that promising that would be promising something he couldn't guarantee. Instead, he promised something that was completely solemn.  
  
"Well, you can come to me for anything. And I'll always be here."  
  
The first part was solemn anyway. The last part- he couldn't really guarantee. And that was what terrified him the most. Not that he might not be there but that he wouldn't be there if Ginny needed him.  
  
He was prepared to take whatever Fate had in store for him.  
  
But he wasn't prepared to leave his sister to whatever Fate had in store for her.  
  
And as Ginny started to cry again, Ron comforted her. He rocked her just slightly as their mother had done for them on so many occasions growing up. And while Ginny continued to seek comfort, the one person she'd always been able to depend on without fail made a silent promise.  
  
Anyone who hurt Ginny was going to pay.  
  
**************************************  
  
Oooohhh... So, no Harry, no Hermione, no Draco, no anyone except Ron and Ginny. Hope you guys didn't mind!  
  
Please reply!!!! 


	59. Not Normal

A/N:  Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter!  You guys are the best!!

  
Disclaimer:  If I owned them, I'd be rich.  I'm not, so that would mean I don't.

**************************************

****  The dark figures rushed into the crowd, their heavy hoods hiding their faces and yet giving away their identities completely.    
  
All around them, people screamed and shoved each other, all trying to get out of the way and into a safe haven.

_  
And then those people fell.    
  
One by one.  They fell._

_And their screams faded away, only to be replaced by loud, shrill, mechanical laughter that filled the night air and then disappeared into the stars.  ****_

Hermione Granger sat in the History of Magic classroom trying to listen to whatever Professor Binns was lecturing on.  However, it was simply no use.  For once in her life, she had no clue what the topic of the lesson was, nor did she care too much.  

She'd woken up that morning in a cold sweat, and she'd been sick immediately upon rushing into the bathroom.  Lavender and Parvati had both hovered about her when she fell back into her bed, her head splitting and her eyes watering.  They'd offered to fetch Madame Pomfrey or to make excuses for her if she wanted to skive off for the day.  She'd refused both offers, though, because going for the nurse or missing class would only make her ailment obvious, and that was one thing she did not want.

In fact, after forcing herself to get back up and ready for class, she'd carefully avoided both Ron and Harry by skipping breakfast and pretending to immerse herself into her notes as soon as she'd rushed into History of Magic just a minute before the final bell rang.  She didn't want to answer their questions about why her skin was so pale or why her eyes were wet and swollen.  She knew, of course, that she wouldn't be able to successfully ignore them for the entire day, but she was still thankful that the next period was Arithmancy; it would give her at least another ninety minutes of peace.  
  
As it was, she was doing her best to appear interested in the lecture, though a glance at her notes showed page upon page of empty parchment.  She could feel the boys staring at her from either side, but she forced herself to look straight ahead and not meet their eyes.  When Ron had passed her a note asking what was wrong, she'd simply scribbled back, "_Stop passing notes.  I don't want to get in trouble," _and slid it back.

The night before had been riddled with sleeplessness.  It had taken her hours to fall asleep in the first place because she'd been anxious about something completely unknown to her.  When she'd finally dropped into the zone of sleep she'd been waiting on, she had been plagued with unpleasant images that she'd rather have not seen at all.    
  
Over the past few weeks, she'd started having more and more 'bad' feelings, and sleep had become more of a chore than a comfort.  She didn't have _nightmares _exactly; she would classify them more as startling thoughts in the form of dreams.  If a dream could be a feeling, that was what she'd been having- terrible, horrible feelings.

She could sense the way Ron and Harry were staring at her, and she studied the paper in front of her intensely, forcing herself not to look at either of them.  She just didn't want to deal with them.

_Please let this class hurry up, _she prayed silently.  She wanted to get away from them and into her Arithmancy class as soon as possible.  She simply didn't trust herself around them, not when she knew that they could both read her like an open book.  Sometimes she hated that they knew her so well; sometimes she wished she didn't know them as well as she did.  As it was, though, their friendship was so deeply rooted that none of them could successfully hide anything from the others.

 And it was obvious that they were both going to interrogate her at the earliest moment.

A knock at the classroom door drew her attention away from her blank notes, though, and she turned with the rest of the class to see who the visitor was.  Professor Binns, thoroughly annoyed, called for the knocker to enter, and a House-Elf entered timidly.  The tiny creature was obviously very timid about walking into a crowded classroom, and he stumbled as he hurried to the teacher and whispered a message.

Professor Binns sighed loudly and turned to stare at the class.  "You are all to report to the Great Hall," he said glumly.  Apparently, his number one pet peeve was being interrupted; after all, he hadn't even allowed death to distract him from his teaching.

All of Hermione's classmates seemed excited at escaping History of Magic a bit early, but Hermione felt nothing but dread.  She wasn't sure why but she was positive that whatever reason they were being summoned to the Great Hall for was not going to be pleasant.  She was used to the feeling that lay heavy in her stomach; she'd become quite accustomed to the feeling of dread over the past few weeks.

**************************************

Thirty minutes later, she was seated at the Gryffindor table between Harry and Ron.  They'd both hounded her the entire way to the Great Hall for the reason she was looking so frightened, but she'd shrugged them away and, in no greater words, told them both to shove off.  It had worked, though, and the three of them now sat in silence as the rest of the school buzzed with excitement over the upcoming message.  All of the houses were present, but Hermione noticed that the first and second years were not in attendance.  The fact that the youngest children hadn't been summoned only heightened the horrible feeling that was already boding so well inside of her.

"Silence, please!"  Professor McGonagall's voice boomed from the front of the Great Hall, and Hermione looked up to see all of the staff seated at their normal places, though there was obviously no food.  All of their faces were ashen and regretful, and Hermione knew this wasn't a good sign.

The Great Hall quieted quickly, as it so often did when the Transfiguration teacher called for silence.  She was one of the few teachers who exulted that much authority.  The only other staff members who really did were Professor Dumbledore and, regrettably, Professor Snape.  McGonagall waited for her command to be met, and then she seated herself to the left of the Headmaster, who stood and cleared his throat, preparing to make the announcement.

"If I may have your attention, please," he said gravely.  "There is something that all of you need to be made aware of."    
  
Almost immediately, an excited whisper broke out amongst the students, all of them wondering what this amazing revelation was.  Hermione simply stared at the table in front of her, listening but making eye-contact with no one.

"You will notice that the first and second years are not with us, and I would like to express my sincere hope that what I speak of now will not be passed to them in a way meant to frighten or deceive them.  They will find out, of course, but I think it best that for now they are not given full details."  Once again, a buzz lit up in the form of excited whispers.  "Please hold your conversations until I am finished," he said curtly, perfectly silencing the crowd. 

"Now, what I am about to tell you is disturbing, and I want to make it perfectly clear that I am in no way attempting to scare you.  I simply believe that you should all know the truth, and by the truth, I mean facts, not gossip and exaggerated stories which you may read in the papers."  Dumbledore cleared his throat once more.  "Diagon Alley was attacked last night."

Hermione closed her eyes and missed the gasps of shock and loud questions and demands for more details; all she heard was the Headmaster, who continued speaking after several seconds.    
  
She wished she hadn't even heard him.

"Six people were killed."  
  
Six people.  Six people were dead.  Six people were dead after an attack.

_And then those people fell.    
  
One by one.  They fell._

And Hermione had seen it all in her dream

She had known what was going to happen before it happened.  She had seen those people fall, heard their cries of agony, and watched as they'd died.

  
And she'd been hundreds of miles away from Diagon Alley.

And yet she'd seen it.

Her hearing shut down completely at this point, and she didn't hear the rest of the story.  She didn't need to, though; she knew all of it.  The Death Eaters had killed those people.    
  
The Death Eaters had killed six people.

And she had dreamed about it.

***************************************

The rest of the day passed oddly.  Classes went back to session after the mid-morning announcement of the attack on Diagon Alley, but none of the teachers really seemed up to teaching.  The students all seemed to be in a daze, especially the Hufflepuffs, who realized almost instantly that one of their own sixth years, Damon Timmon, hadn't been in attendance during the mini-assembly.  He'd been called away from class an hour before the other students had.

His father, the owner of a small junk shop on Diagon Alley, had been one of the six.

Hermione had never spoken to Damon; she'd seen him in the hallway once or twice, but he'd never sparked her interest enough to the point where she would seek him out for a conversation.  She didn't know anything about him.

And she would probably never see him again.

She couldn't imagine coming back to school after losing a parent; in fact, the whole concept of losing a parent seemed odd and foreign to her.  Ironic, really, considering the fact that one of her best friends was an orphan.

But that was Harry.  And Harry wasn't normal.  

Harry Potter was the hero of the wizarding world, and even though Hermione knew him as so much more than the Boy Who Lived, she still, deep in the back of her mind, held an image of him that was invincible.  Harry was strong.  He could go through anything and survive.  Bad things happened to him all the time, and he always went on; he never allowed himself to surrender.

Was Damon Timmon that strong?  Would he return to Hogwarts?  Would she ever get the chance to converse with him?

Hermione, sitting in a Common Room chair facing the fire, was well-aware of the fact that she was thinking completely random thoughts, but she honestly had no idea how to make real sense out of anything that had happened.  She wasn't even completely sure that she _wanted _to make sense out of it.

Because if she pretended things were normal maybe they would be.

Maybe she would just be a fifteen year old girl, trying to make her way through school and juggling a first relationship.  Maybe she wouldn't be one-third of a prophesized trio meant to save the world.  Maybe her best friend would just be a boy with glasses and a demure personality.  Maybe he wouldn't be a revered hero, famous for something he couldn't even remember.  Maybe she wouldn't have to worry each day that someone she loved was going to be hurt or killed.

Maybe she could just be _normal. _

Unfortunately, she was one of Harry Potter's best friends.  And, as she'd earlier thought, Harry wasn't normal.  Even more unfortunately, this meant she couldn't be, either.

"Will you please tell me what's wrong?"

Ron's voice broke through her reverie, and she looked up, surprised to see that the Common Room had mostly emptied.  The last time she'd bothered to pay attention, it had been busy and crowded.  She wondered what time it was.

Hermione looked at the redhead unenthusiastically, and her answer came out a little more sarcastic than she had meant for it to.  "Six people are dead."

Ron looked away for a moment, and Hermione wondered if he was just going to give up after her curt reply.  He answered, though, and she realized that he wasn't going to just let it go.  "You were upset before that."

"Where's Harry?"  She avoided the question by asking one of her own.

Ron looked slightly annoyed at her tactic, but he answered anyway.  "Where do you think he is?  He's upstairs brooding and blaming himself even though he was clearly nowhere near Diagon Alley."

Hermione stared once again at the fire.  "It wasn't his fault."

"Of course it wasn't," Ron said non-hesitantly.  She felt him perch himself lazily onto the arm of her chair, but she didn't react.

"It was mine."

"What?"  She sensed his stare, but she forced herself not to acknowledge it.  She answered instead in a dull and emotionless voice.

"I could have stopped it."  
  
"What are you talking about?"

Hermione closed her eyes briefly, images of her nightmare swimming before her.  In a weak voice, she repeated herself.  "I could have stopped it."

Ron was silent, and she could feel his eyes boring into her.  He was as shocked as she felt but for completely different reasons.

Without having to be asked, Hermione clarified her claim.  She wasn't really sure why she was telling him; maybe she felt guilty because Harry was blaming himself or maybe she just needed to tell someone.  It was starting to be too heavy of a weight.

"I dreamed it."

"You..." she turned and saw Ron staring strangely at her as he tried to make sense of her story.  "You _dreamed_ it?"

Hermione nodded blankly, not looking away from him for once.  "Last night.  I dreamed about it.  And then it happened."  She felt a cold chill rush through her.  "I should have stopped it."  
  
She was aware, of course, that her dream had probably occurred simultaneously with the actual attack, but she still couldn't help feeling as though she could have prevented it.  For once, logic didn't seem to matter much.

"You _dreamed _it?"  Ron seemed only capable of repeating himself, but Hermione barely noticed.  She saw the ashen fear on his face, and a sharp twinge of guilt tugged at her insides.  

"Just forget it," she said briskly, not wanting  to make him worry and especially not wanting to hear him repeat himself fifty million more times.

"You dreamed it..."  
  


"Ron!"

Ron seemed to jerk out of his state of disbelief, and he glanced back at her sheepishly, muttering, "Sorry," and then going quiet again.

Hermione wondered if, for once, Ron had listened to her and actually decided to forget it as she had instructed him to do.  No such luck.

"Do you..." his voice sounded oddly strained, "_dream _things often?"

She turned back to the fire and studied it, noticing not for the first time what a beautiful thing flames really were.  Carefully, she sorted out how to answer his question.  After a second, she settled for, "Not really _dream _a lot...  Mostly I just have bad feelings- sort of like I did the day when the Dementors showed up in Hogsmeade."  She made a point not to look at him.  "This was the first time I've ever really seen anything visually..."

Another deafening silence surrounded them, and Hermione found herself pondering the term 'deafening silence.'  It was an oxymoron- two completely different meanings that somehow made sense, and she decided that her entire life was an oxymoron.  

"I think you should tell Dumbledore."  
  
Ron's sudden yet firm statement forced Hermione to stop thinking about oxymorons, and she looked instead at him as if he were a _real _moron.  "Are you out of your head?!" she asked incredulously.

He just stared back at her blankly.

"I am not telling Dumbledore!  I'm not telling anyone!"  She jumped out of the chair and spun around to face him wildly.  "And if you tell anyone, I will never forgive you."

"Hermione..." he started to speak, but she cut him off.

"No!  I'm serious.  Don't you dare tell anyone!  And I mean _anyone."  _By 'anyone,' she was explicitly referring to Harry.  

Ron looked at with such intensity that she couldn't decipher whether his look was meant to be intimidating, angry, pitying, or confused.  The answer was clear when he finally spoke, his voice dripping with disgusted disbelief.  "You are so selfish."

The words hit her like a physical slap to the face.  The fact that he sounded completely honest and sincere with his claim hurt even more.  She was so stunned, in fact, that she could nothing except stare at him.

"This could be serious, Hermione," he said icily, not moving from his place on the armrest.  "This could _help _someone.  It could help _Harry."  _

Hermione felt another familiar twinge of guilt, and she had to look downward to the floor.  He didn't stop, though; he simply went right on degrading her.

"I can't believe that you're too selfish to want to help him.  I thought he was your best friend."

And then Hermione could take no more.  "Don't judge me!" she shouted, jumping a bit at her own suddenly loud voice.  She was thankful that the Common Room was deserted, as she wasn't really in any mood to be the center of a spectacle at the moment.  "You have no idea!"

Ron didn't raise his own voice to match hers; in fact, he was infuriatingly calm.  "You're right," he conceded lazily, "I don't have any idea what it's like to see things happening in my dream and then hear about them coming true."  For a second, she thought she'd actually won.  "But I do know that I wouldn't let anything stop me from helping my best friend if I could."

And she had lost.

The guilt trip he was giving her was almost unbearable, and, in that moment, she hated him.  Out of all the things that annoyed her about Ron, there was one that stood out far above the rest.  She hated it, couldn't stand it, when he was right about something.  And at that moment, he was right, and she hated him for it.

His eyes bore into her until she had no choice but to meet them.  Knowing fully well that what he said was the truth, she finally sighed.  
  


"Fine."

******************************************

The next morning, Hermione found herself trudging slowly behind Ron and Harry on the way to the Headmaster's office.  She'd finally given in and decided that if anyone had a right to know that she was dreaming about things happening, it was Harry.  He'd been surprised and even worried, but he had firmly agreed with Ron that she needed to go to Dumbledore.

They'd approached him at breakfast and asked if they could have a moment; he'd agreed, of course, and given them the password to his office as well as a pass for missing their morning Charms lesson.  After the meal, they'd made their way down the twisting corridors to the large gargoyle statue that guarded the Headmaster's office.  Ron had given the password ("Candy Cane!"), and they'd entered the large circular room.

It wasn't the first time that any of them had been inside of the office, but it was still amazing.  Fawkes was sitting high on a perch beside a tall bookshelf, and he fluttered his wings to greet them.  Portraits of old Headmasters lined the walls, and a magnificent desk made with the most intricate patterns of wood stood slightly toward the middle of the room.    
  
The three friends looked around curiously, not sure if they should seat themselves on one of the large couches or if they should wait for Professor Dumbledore to show up and offer them a place to sit.

  
They didn't have to wonder long, though, because moments later, a hidden door opened, and the Headmaster entered.  He offered them a brief smile before motioning for them to sit.  He himself sat behind the large desk and opened a small dish.    
  


"Would you care for a gummy bear?"  He'd always had a liking for Muggle sweets, and he held the candy dish out to them.  All three of them politely shook their heads, so Dumbledore simply took two for himself and replaced the lid.  "What can I do for you?"

Hermione kept quiet.  She ignored the way both Ron and Harry were staring at her and waiting for her to offer up the explanation.  She hadn't wanted to come in the first place, and if they wanted the story told, they would have to do it themselves.

  
Finally, after what seemed like an extremely long silence, she caught Ron rolling his eyes and answering.  "Hermione had a dream about the Diagon Alley attack."

_Nice roundabout way of going about it, _Hermione thought ruefully.

Surprisingly, though, Professor Dumbledore didn't seem too concerned.  "Well, it's only natural that some people will be uneasy after hearing the details of such a tragedy.  I imagine quite a few students dreamed about it last night."

"No," Ron said seriously.  "She dreamed about it the night before last- before it happened."

Hermione couldn't help but look up and gauge the Headmaster's reaction.  He still seemed rather unsurprised, but he did look keenly interested, though.  "Oh, really?"  Hermione was positive that a light flickered on in his eyes, and he studied her intently.  "Is this true, Miss Granger?"

Hermione wanted to lie; she wanted to deny the whole thing and pretend that it had never happened.  However, she knew that the professor would see straight through her falsity, though, so she didn't even attempt it.  Instead, she barely nodded a yes.

"And have you had any other such dreams?"

Hermione didn't think she'd ever been so uncomfortable in her entire life, and she wished harder than ever that she was just normal.  In way of an answer, she quietly said, "Not really.  I've had some bad feelings, but I've never really seen anything."  
  


"Have any of those bad feelings occurred before actual bad events?"  He was staring at her, and she realized that both of the boys were, too.

She nodded again, wanting simply to disappear. 

"I see."  Dumbledore stood up and crossed the room to a rather packed bookshelf.  He reached for what was quite possibly the largest book Hermione had ever seen in her life; it was too heavy to lift, so he floated it back across the room to his desk where it fell with a heavy and loud thud.  All three Gryffindors watched intently as he raised his wand and pointed it to the book, clearly saying, "Granger, Hermione."

The book opened and thousands of pages fluttered in a haze as the book turned itself to the proper page and stopped abruptly.  The Headmaster leaned over the book and pushed his moon-shaped glasses further up on his nose as he read whatever was written.  Hermione had an extremely strong urge to read what it was, too, as it did seem to be about her.  She didn't dare ask, though.  And after a moment, Professor Dumbledore smiled softly, "Just as I expected," he said more to himself than to them.  
  


"Begging your pardon, Professor," Hermione said weakly.  "But what is just as you expected?"

The Headmaster looked back to the students then, the smile still protruding from under his thick white beard.    
  


"Miss Granger, it appears that you have an extremely rare gift.  Especially for a Muggle-born."  He chuckled softly.  "And especially for someone who detests Divination as much as you seem to."  
  
Hermione just stared back at him, willing him to just get on with it.  
  


"Miss Granger, you are a True Seer."

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And so the secret about one of the trio is revealed!    
  
Feedback is always adored!!!


	60. Friends

A/N:  Sorry about the delay!  Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter!  
  
Disclaimer:  They aren't mine!  

**************************

Hermione being a True Seer caused several reactions.

Upon first hearing the revelation, Harry, Ron, and the new Diviner herself all sat in complete shocked silence.  And then, all at once, Harry and Ron burst into simultaneous laughter.  

And Hermione fainted.

It had taken her exactly fourteen minutes to come back to consciousness, and upon her awakening, she'd told the boys about a strange dream she'd just had.  Sitting up in her bed in the infirmary, she'd filled them in on the most outrageous dream imaginable.

  
She'd dreamed that Dumbledore had said that she was a True Seer.

And when Ron had cautiously told her that she hadn't dreamed _that, _she'd fainted again.

After that, Madame Pomfrey kicked Ron and Harry out of the hospital wing.  

Hours later, when Hermione was finally able to hear the word 'Seer' without dropping into a semi-coma, she'd returned to Gryffindor Tower to find that Harry and Ron were still finding the whole situation quite humorous.  In fact, it seemed as if they'd been up in the Tower snickering over it the entire time she'd been out cold in the infirmary.  And when she joined them at their regular table, they both seemed to be struggling with the holding back of their laughter.  

Hermione wasn't sure why she'd expected any less; after all, Ron and Harry had always had a horrible habit of making fun of her and ganging up on her.  Obviously growing up hadn't changed that.  

Over the next few days, the boys still continued to burst into sporadic bouts of snickering, and Harry had even stooped so low as to ask her if she would do his Divination homework for him.  Ron had, of course, found this simply hilarious, and the two of them had laughed for a good twenty minutes after Hermione had flipped them both off and stalked away.

Hermione, for her part in the whole thing, simply chose not to believe it.

She held to the firm belief that any dreams of feelings that she might have had had simply been coincidental.  There was absolutely no way, she assessed, that she could have any sort of gift for a talent, which, in her eyes, was completely fictional.  Divination was something for girls like Parvati and Lavender- girls who could draw satisfaction from _ifs _and _maybes.  _Hermione, on the other hand, chose to deal in facts.

Facts were safe.

  
Divination was not.

However, the day Professor McGonagall summoned the fifth year Gryffindor to her office, Hermione began to look at the situation a bit differently.  

She'd gone to McGonagall's office with a strange sense of foreboding.  It wasn't often that the Head of Gryffindor called students out of class to meet with her, so when Hermione was called away from Care of Magical Creatures four days after Professor Dumbledore's discovery, she had no idea what she could have done.  If she'd done something and was in trouble for it, she wondered why she alone was getting called away; anything she could possibly have been getting punished for would have indefinitely involved Harry and Ron as well.  However, the owl had reached Hagrid at his hut, and he'd told Hermione that Professor McGonagall wished to see her.

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger."  Professor McGonagall wasn't exactly the friendliest of people to say the very least.  She was brilliant certainly, and Hermione had always held a deep, deep admiration for the older witch.  But she wasn't the sort of person to discuss things in a casual, laid-back sort of way as Professor Lupin or Hagrid might have done.

Hermione had smiled in return and taken the seat offered to her.  

"I assume that the news Professor Dumbledore presented you with has come as a great shock, no?"

Hermione nodded.  "Yes, ma'am.  It's a bit difficult to believe."

The Transfiguration teacher almost smiled- as much of a smile as was possible for someone usually so tight-lipped.  "Yes, I imagine it is."  
  


Hermione thought for a moment and then breached the subject gently.  "Professor...  You don't really put too much stock into Divination and those sorts of things, do you?"

For a moment, Professor McGonagall seemed to be thinking about the proper way of answering the question.  Hermione was a little surprised, though, because she clearly remembered the remarks made by McGonagall in regards to Professor Trelawney during her third year.  The answer finally came in the form of a question.  "What is your favorite subject, Miss Granger?"

Hermione, thoroughly confused, debated whether to answer the question honestly; perhaps it was a trick question.  Finally, she decided that her teacher wouldn't have asked the question if she didn't already know the answer.  "Arithmancy."

McGonagall nodded.  "Yes, I imagined as much.  And what, Miss Granger, is Arithmancy exactly composed of?"

Hermione realized where the question and answer session was leading, and she finally caught on.  "Using numbers and letters to make assessments about one's life..."  
  


"Exactly."  Professor McGonagall settled a bit further down into the chair that she was occupying.  "Arithmancy is one of the oldest forms of Divination.  Astronomy is, in fact, the oldest form of Divination, and I don't recall you having any qualms with any of your Astronomy lessons."

Hermione shook her head.   
  


"So, tell me why exactly you had such a problem with the class based on more traditional types of Divination."

Hermione bit her lips for a second and then settled, once again, for the truth.  "Because Professor Trelawney seems like such a fraud."

"Exactly."  Hermione was quite surprised to hear it put so bluntly, but she continued to listen intently.  "You had a problem believing your teacher, and therefore, you had a problem learning the subject.  Miss Granger, I am sure you are aware that there are several different types of Diviners."

Hermione nodded again.  "Yes, ma'am."

"And I'm sure you've encountered as many 'Diviners' in the Muggle world as you have in the Wizarding world, am I correct?"

Hermione thought about it and realized that she was, in fact, correct.

"You see, Miss Granger, Sybil Trelawney would be better suited to perform as a fortune teller in a traveling carnival for Muggles than she is to teach a class on the subject."

"But even if Professor Trelawney is a fake, shouldn't I have been able to overcome that and still excel if I'm supposed to be a True Seer?  I never did anything correctly in that class."

The same half-smirk crossed the teacher's face and she shook her head.  "You are one of the most intelligent students I have ever had the pleasure of instructing, Miss Granger."

Hermione blushed, deeply pleased.

"I have yet to see a problem, which you aren't capable of solving.  Even when you were eleven years old, you were far more intuitive than half of the graduating class.  And so, of course, it would seem natural to assume that you would be able to bypass an incompetent teacher and learn the material on your own.  However, you must take into consideration that you were simply being presented with the wrong material."

"The wrong material?"

Professor McGonagall nodded.  "Yes.  You, my dear, are a True Seer; it is a gift so rare that many people do not even know what the term actually encompasses.  Your gift is natural, and therefore, you do not need to resort to external means to See.  You don't need to read tea leaves or gaze into a crystal ball for your visions; they come to you naturally."

Hermione was beginning to understand, but some things still didn't make sense.  "Why haven't I ever had these visions... or whatever... before now?"

"A True Seer always comes into their full powers on their sixteenth birthday.  You are almost a half a year away from yours, correct?"

Hermione nodded.

"The phase you are in right now is the developmental phase.  You are just starting to realize your powers, but they are still so premature that you have no control over them?"

"Will I eventually be able to control them?"

"Yes.  Once you are used to the visions appearing, you will learn to predict them and only connect to them when you wish to.  Right now, however, you are very likely to have random and spontaneous sights that most likely will come completely unexpectedly."

Hermione wasn't too sure at all that she liked the idea of random and spontaneous sights invading her mind at any time.  She could just imagine the look on Snape's face if she asked to be excused from class because of a 'vision.'

In fact, she had a feeling she wasn't going to like this Seer gig at all.  She asked a question that she feared might make her appear timid and weak.  It was important, though, and she wanted to know the correct answer.  "What if I don't want to be a True Seer?"

The teacher studied her for a long moment before once again answering the question with another question.  "What reason could you have for _not _wanting such a rare and extraordinary gift?"

There were several reasons; Hermione just wasn't sure which one to actually voice.  In a rather shy voice, she admitted something she wouldn't have dared admit to anyone else.  "Because I don't want to be special."

There was a long moment of silence; Hermione realized that she was twisting nervously in her seat as if she were awaiting execution.  Finally, Professor McGonagall spoke.  "I don't see that you have much choice.  You are one of the most unique people I have ever met, and I must tell you that I'm quite surprised.  You seem to go out of your way to excel."  
  
Hermione knew she wasn't doing a great job of explaining, and she chose her words carefully.  "I want to _know _things.  That's why I care so much about school."  She frowned slightly.  "I know a lot of people think it's because I want to be the best, but that's not it.  Maybe it was at first, when I first got here...  But that was just because being smart was the only thing I'd ever been good at, and it was the only way I ever got attention when I was younger."  She suddenly felt extremely guilty for admitting this; she felt as though she were betraying her parents and all of her primary school teachers.  But it was the truth, and she was trying to make her point clear.  "I mean, I had a lot of _things _when I was growing up because my parents have their own dental practice, and they make a lot of money.  But..." she broke off slightly.  "But I didn't really have a lot of friends."  She looked away.

"So, you pushed yourself to almost overachievement to get approval from people?"

Hermione hadn't really thought of it quite that bluntly, but she figured that that was as clear as it was going to get.  She nodded and turned back to face her teacher.  

"And what about now, Miss Granger?"

"I have friends now," Hermione said immediately.  Professor McGonagall nodded agreement.  "And I have _two _best friends, and that's really lucky, right?"

"I don't know," the teacher said smoothly.  "Is it?"

Hermione nodded.  "It is," she paused for a moment.  "Most of the time."

"And the rest of the time?"

Hermione had the distinct feeling that she was in psychotherapy, but, for some reason, she really didn't mind.  If anything, she felt relieved, though she hadn't really expected to.  "I guess with three people...  I guess sometimes someone gets left out."

"Does that happen often?"

Hermione shrugged.  "Well, sort of.  I mean, if someone does get left out, it's usually me.  And, you know, I'm a girl."

"I was aware."  
  
Hermione nodded.  "And, you know, they're not."

"Thank you for that clarification."  Hermione was almost positive that the professor grinned.

Hermione smiled and continued.  "So, I don't really mind too much.  Not really.  Because they were best friends first, and I came later, and they're boys, and I'm not, and, you know."

"I do not pretend to understand the fifteen year old psyche, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said matter-of-factly.  "However, I do think I know what you are saying.  But, tell me, do you still get left out?"

Hermione thought about the question and answered it carefully.  "Not so much.  I still do sometimes, but I guess things are different now..."  She blushed and forced herself to study the floor.  "And maybe Harry feels left out sometimes now."

"Perhaps he does."  Hermione was relieved to hear that the tone of her teacher's voice did not change at all.  "But I am confident that he knows who his true friends are."

Hermione nodded and looked up.  "And I guess that's really why I don't want this Seeing thing."

"Yes?"

"Yeah, because of Harry."  
  
McGonagall stared at her student over the top of her wire frames.  "Would you care to elaborate?"

Hermione thought about her wording.  "I've been around Harry enough to know that maybe being special isn't such a great thing."  She swallowed slightly.  "I mean, look at him.  He's rich, famous, and most people worship the ground he walks on.  And even those who don't idolize him still expect him to do something great and powerful.  And everyone just expects him to be so brilliant and brave, and they all expect him to save the world."

"Do you share their opinion?"

Hermione chewed on her thumbnail.  "He is very smart, really.  But he's a bit of a slacker.  And he is brave, very brave.  But he's really normal, too."  She lowered her hand from her mouth.  "And people don't realize that."

 "Do you expect him to save the world?"

Hermione thought about the question and answered it honestly.  "Maybe.  I think he's going to do something spectacular somewhere down the line, but for all I know, it could be becoming the youngest professional Quidditch player in history or something." She sighed.  "He's fifteen years old.  He shouldn't have to save the world."  
  


"There are many people who would argue that he saved the world at fifteen months old."

Hermione bit back her bitterness.  "Well, being a baby hero hasn't really made him too happy, now has it?  Perhaps it's better to just be normal."

"Perhaps it is."  
  


"And then Ron," Hermione went right on.  "Ron thinks he's as normal and ordinary as it is possible to be.  And he's always wanted to be something special.  He's not happy being _normal, _and Harry's not happy being a _hero.  _Ron wants something to make him stand out from his brothers, and Harry actually _wants _his brothers.  And Ron wants Harry's fame and money, and Harry wants Ron's parents."  She shook her head.  "They both want to be each other, and yet, neither one of them is exceptionally happy being the person that the other wants to be."

Professor McGonagall folded her hands beneath her chin.  "And why, do you suppose, that neither of them is happy being who they are?"

Hermione paused for a moment, reflecting.  Slowly, she answered, "Because the grass is always greener on the other side maybe."  
  


"Maybe."  She looked very pointedly at the student.  "And what is your opinion on the boys?"

"Pardon?"

"Just what I asked, Miss Granger.  What is your opinion of your friends."  
  
Hermione didn't speak for a minute.  "I love them both very much, and I wish they'd just be happy with themselves."  She shook her head.  "But it won't ever happen."  
  


"And why is that?"

"Because it's impossible to be self-satisfied."

"Is it?"

Hermione nodded.  "Maybe it's possible later, but there's no way someone can be totally satisfied with themselves as a teenager.  Even if it's something as superficial as wanting to be taller or skinnier or something."

"So, in essence, you are saying that each person is their own worst critic?"

She nodded again.  "And everyone is jealous of someone.  Ron and Harry are jealous of each other."

"Does that ever affect your friendship?"

"Last year it did.  For a little while."  She frowned slightly at the memory.  "But they really do love each other even if they'll _never _say that out loud.  And they know what's important.  I know they'd never let anything stupid like jealousy come in the way of what really matters."

"There are acquaintances, and then there are true friends.  You have two of the best, Miss Granger."  It was the truest of statements.  

Quietly, Hermione nodded and said, "I know."

"They would die for you.  Or for each other."  She sought out the younger female's eye.  "I am confident of that."

Hermione stared wide-eyed at the floor and whispered, "I know."  It was the truth, though she hated to even think the thought.

"And whether or not you realize it," Professor McGonagall went right on, "the three of you are growing up far too quickly than any child should have to.  It's happening, though, and part of growing up is facing challenges.  The gift of Seeing that you have been presented with is a challenge.  Maybe it's not something you want, and maybe you see it as more of a plague than a gift.  But you have been faced with a challenge, and you must face it."

Hermione had a feeling that her teacher was referring to something much larger than the news of her being a True Seer.    
  
But a voice rang out in her mind.  It was from the year before when Professor Dumbledore had given his speech about Cedric after 

Harry had returned from the maze.

If the time should come when you must choose between what is right and what is easy...  

And then she understood.    
  
She was a True Seer for a reason; she'd yet to figure out the reason, but she knew that sooner or later she would know.  And even though she just wanted to be normal, she knew that she was serving a purpose.    
  
And maybe it wouldn't be easy.

But it was right.

And it would help her friends.  Her friends, as Professor McGonagall had said, who would die for her or for each other.

And that was what was most important of all.  

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Reviews are welcome!!!!


	61. A Sense of Hope

A/N:  Sorry, sorry, sorry for the long delay!  If you are a member of the Yahoo! group, you know that I've been getting detained unexpectedly a lot.    
  
I hope you guys still like this even after the little recess!

  
Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far!  You are greatly appreciated!

  
Disclaimer:  Not mine!

**************************************************

Ron expected his sixteenth birthday to be special, but he had no idea that his life would change forever that day.

The morning had gone well.  It was a Saturday, so naturally, the absence of classes put everyone in a good mood; add to that a breakfast of Belgian waffles and fried eggs and the fact that Hermione had kissed him in the Great Hall in front of everyone and then told Fred and George to shove off when they had begun teasing, and you basically had the perfect morning.

  
There was a Quidditch practice scheduled between breakfast and lunch to prepare for the upcoming match against Ravenclaw.  After much coaxing, Ron and Harry had convinced Hermione to skip the library for one day and join them on the field.  She'd finally agreed, but she had insisted on bringing her homework.  The O.W.L.s, as she firmly pointed out, were only three months away.  She'd seated herself in the stands a good bit away from the group of girls who always showed up with perfect make-up and perfect hair to watch the practices.

Alicia seemed to be in a particularly bad mood that day, and the workout she was giving them seemed much closer to one that Oliver Wood would have put them through.  Shed been yelling at the twins all morning for goofing off and had threatened to keep them after practice for extra work.  She'd told her fellow Chasers that they might as well have been called _Sitting Down and Waiting to be Caughters.  _She informed Ron that he was flying like he was on a Dragonfly 06 instead of a Firebolt.  And she had accused Harry of being so out of his game that he wouldn't be able to spot the Snitch if it decided to sit on the tip of his nose.  The members of the team were, though, taking her criticism with a grain of salt, as it was no secret that she had an ulterior motive for making sure they swamped Ravenclaw.  She'd been dumped by their Keeper, Trent McDougal, after a brief fling a month earlier.  Of course, when Fred stupidly (and loudly) whispered to Katie that he was afraid Alicia was going to knock his little brother unconscious hurling Quaffles like that while imagining that he was Trent, Alicia had aimed her Quaffle directly at the aforementioned _older _brother and had managed quite the perfect shot.  She'd added to this by calling him more than a few names adorned with more than a few colorful adjectives, much to the amusement of everyone else, including Fred, who beamed as if she was complimenting him in the highest of ways, despite the rather large bruise that was forming on the side of his jaw.  

"If you aren't even going to _try _to make a smooth pass then get off the field!"  Alicia shouted across the field to a very worn-out looking Josh Brenner, who was actually turning out to be quite the Chaser.  This was definitely a good thing since both Alicia and Katie would be graduating in June; the team would need at least one experienced Chaser, and Josh was promising to be exceptional.  However, today he was a bit off; of course, this was probably due to the fact that they'd been on the field for going on two hours with very little downtime.  

Alicia was on a roll, though.  "If the other team isn't distracted enough, the chances lessen greatly that Harry can get away with sneaking the Snitch.  And you all _know _that's the way it's got to happen."  She motioned all of them to follow her to the ground, and then she rounded on Harry.  "Cho Chang is a follower, and you know that.  She watches the other Seeker instead of watching for the Snitch; that's always been her strategy."  Harry did know; she and Malfoy both used that tactic.  He was used to it.    
  
Alicia turned back to the rest of the team.  "What I want the rest of you to do is distract her in any way possible.  _Bludgers," _she said very pointedly with a look in Fred and George's direction.  "And Harry," she once again focused her attention on him, "I know Oliver said this once before, and I thought it was funny then.  But now I see what he meant."  Harry wondered what in the world she was talking about.  "I don't care what you have to do to get that Snitch.  And if that means knocking her off her broom, then forget the gentleman act."

Ron snorted, but Harry was thankful that he was apparently the only one who caught the double meaning.  He sent a rather murderous glare to his best friend before doing his best to appear focused on Alicia's 'pep talk.'  

He'd barely even acknowledged Cho at all this year.  He hadn't spoken to her except for the brief conversation they shared in Hogsmeade a couple of months before, and any other socializing they'd done had been hooded half-smiles managed out of cordiality.  Or sympathy.  Whatever.  Either way, he certainly wasn't looking forward to playing her the next week.  He'd never done his best in games against Ravenclaw, and it was always due largely in part to the fact that his eyes always seemed to be Seeking out a raven-haired girl with almond-shaped eyes instead of a tiny little golden ball with wings.

He wasn't entirely sure that anything had changed that.  Not untimely deaths.  Not uncomfortable moments of awkwardness.  Not even a certain girl with curly blonde hair and sea-green eyes...  It wasn't like he wanted to date Cho or anything; no, he was quite happy with Gia.  More than happy.  Ecstatic.  But he had a feeling that an unrequited crush would always haunt him.

After that uplifting discussion of Quidditch tactics, Alicia finally let them take a break.  Everyone let out grateful sighs of relief and took off in various directions.  Ron and Harry stopped to get water from the cooler and then jumped over the railing to join Hermione.  

She looked up from her book and smiled a thanks as Ron handed her a cup of water.  "Sounds like Alicia's not too happy today, huh?"

Both boys groaned as they flopped down into seats on either side of her.  Harry rubbed his neck carefully.  "I think every bone in my body is on the verge of breaking."

"I actually just read up on how to heal broken bones, so if they do break, you're in luck."  Hermione reached over to pat him on the back.

  
Ron snickered as Harry sent her a fake look of annoyance.

  
At that moment, the three of them were joined by four girls from the 'Quidditch Grouples,' as Katie and Alicia always called them.  The 'groupies' were made up of girls from all four houses.  None of the teams really worried about them spying, though, because the question of whether or not they knew the difference between a Bludger and a Snitch was still unanswered.  When Gryffindor practiced, most of the girls hung around Fred and George, but there were always a few who chose to try their hand at the younger boys on the team.  

Bryna Applegate and Rosie Dempen were two sixth years from Hufflepuff.  They were joined by Kathy Turner, a fifth year Ravenclaw, and Chelsea McKibbin, one of Ginny's roommates.  All four of them were regulars at the Quidditch practices, and Harry and Ron had met them on several previous occasions.

"You guys looked great out there!" Bryna exclaimed.  "Ravenclaw hasn't got a chance."

  
"Yeah," Rosie agreed seriously.  "I don't know what Allison's problem is today."

"Her name is Alicia," Harry said, slightly annoyed.  "And she hasn't got a problem.  She just wants us to do our best."

"Well, I thought it was fab," said Chelsea.  Chelsea looked like one of those girls that would actually use the expression '_double cool with knobs.'_

Hermione looked up then, the amusement clearly showing on her face.  "Oh, I agree," she said, dead serious.  "I thought it was simply marvy!"

She and the boys shared a moment of hysterical laughter while the other girls looked on in confusion.  

Finally, though, Rosie addressed Hermione.  "Doesn't it frighten you to watch them?  I would think you'd be terribly worried."  
  
Hermione shrugged nonchalantly.  "They've dropped me from high places enough times.  If they fell, it would be a good bit of payback."

Ron and Harry let out simultaneous gasps of indignation, and Harry shoved Hermione, causing her to giggle mercilessly.  Apparently Kathy Turner chose that moment to make her move on Harry.  She slid down on the bench beside him and sent him a warm smile of sparkling white teeth.

"Harry, I know I'm selling my own House out and everything, but I think you're a brilliant Seeker.  The best in the school by far."

Ron and Hermione exchanged curious looks at the way Harry's face lit up at the compliment.  As much as he hated being the center of attention, he'd always been a sucker for Quidditch praise.

Ron cleared his throat and then said very loudly, "_GEE... AH...  imagine that."_

Hermione, for one, found the implication quite hilarious.  Harry's head snapped around at once, and he sent a sharp glare his best friends.  The rest of the girls all stared at each other with shared looks of confusion.  

After another few minutes of the groupies groveling, and Ron, Harry, and Hermione sharing private laughs about them, Kathy, Chelsea, Bryna, and Rosie got bored and decided to join their friends who were currently being entertained by Fred and George.

"Nice subtlety," Harry said sullenly, obviously referring to Ron's clever little spill before.

"Hey," Ron said innocently, "I was just reminding you before you fell prey to Kathy Turner's whims."

Harry rolled his eyes at the dramatic description.  "Like I would forget."

Ron, though, just shrugged.  "Hey, sometimes I forget about Hermione, and I see her every day."  
  
Harry waited for the explosion and looked cautiously in Hermione's direction.  To his surprise, though, she didn't seem particularly angry- just completely shocked.  She was staring at him with widened eyes, but he just grinned and nudged her with his shoulder.  "I'm only kidding!"

Hermione just stared at him for another moment before breathing in slightly and turning to Harry.  "I'm just going to pretend for _one minute that Ron is not a completely idiotic git and that there really is some sort of brain hidden under all that red hair."  Harry grinned and looked past her at Ron who appeared to have taken quite a bit of offense to the insult.  "So, I'm just going to pretend that I didn't hear that."_

They went on like that for several more minutes.  Hermione pretended to ignore everything that Ron said, and Harry watched the two of them with quite a bit of amusement.  They really were quite funny, and he finally realized that if you could get past the fact that they were completely total opposites of each other, they really were quite perfect together.  Not that he wasn't going to be forced to keep himself from gagging whenever they started to forget that they weren't alone, but he was starting to accept the fact that whatever had been preventing the two of them from murdering each other for the past five years might not just be a fear of detention.

"Harry!  Ron!"  Alicia's voice pierced through their conversation, and they all looked up to see her staring at them expectantly.  "Do you think you could possibly stop chit-chatting long enough to join us for the rest of practice?"

Ron mumbled something under his breath, but he stood up with Harry and the two of them glanced back at Hermione who shrugged.  They made their way back down the stands to the railing, which they jumped again.  The rest of the team was already on the field with their brooms; apparently the break was over.  Ron and Harry joined them and stood silently while Alicia went back into another strategy discussion.  She was cut short, though, when the Head of Gryffindor House walked briskly onto the field.  Professor McGonagall definitely appeared to have a mission as she walked to her Quidditch team and stopped just outside their circle.

"Miss Spinnet, if I may?"

Alicia nodded without hesitation.  "Of course."  
  
McGonagall nodded shortly and then, surprisingly, turned her attention to the three Weasleys who were standing side by side.  "Your mother is at St. Mungo's."

Ron swallowed slightly and then glanced at the twins, who looked just as confused as he did.  The rest of the team stood in complete silence, but thankfully Fred managed to say, "Is she alright?"

"Oh, yes," McGonagall said quickly, and Ron let out the breath he wasn't aware that he'd been holding in.  "Apparently, though, her new baby is ready to be born."  
  
A huge smile made its way across Ron's face, and when he looked sideways at his brothers, he saw that they were sharing identical looks.  The news that the baby was on its way was quite shocking since the due date wasn't for another three and a half weeks.    
  


"Can we go to the hospital?" Ron asked hopefully.

  
The professor nodded.  "Yes, someone has already been sent to inform your sister.  You may take the Floo Network from the Headmaster's office, but I expect you all at breakfast tomorrow morning, is that understood?"

Three heads nodded together, so Professor McGonagall gave them the password and told them to be off.  Harry looked anxiously at her, "Can I go, too?"

She pursed her lips but finally sighed and gave in.  "Fine.  But I'm serious about seeing you all at breakfast."  
  


"What's going on?"  Hermione had apparently noticed the interruption, and, worried, she joined her friends on the field.

"Mum's having the baby!" George said excitedly.

  
Hermione's face lit up, too.  "Really?  Now?"

"Yeah.  We're going to St. Mungo's now."    
  
Hermione turned expectantly to Professor McGonagall, who didn't even bother to listen to her request.  "Breakfast," she said pointedly, giving her assent.  And then she turned away and walked quickly back to the castle.

"We can't go like this," Fred said, glancing down at his own dirty Quidditch practice-wear.

"Yeah, because you stink," Hermione said flatly. 

Fred looked at her with a slight glare of contempt.  "Thank you, oh, wise one.  I'm sure you used your whole brain to figure that one out."

  
Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered something that sounded awfully close to, "At least I have a brain."

Ron and Harry glanced at each other and snickered.  Then Ron shook his head and said, "She's not going to have it like right now, is she?"

"Probably not," Hermione said knowledgably.  "She'll probably be in labor for several hours still."  
  


"Then let's go get showers and change clothes, and then we'll go."  

*********************************************************

An hour later, six teenagers took the Floo Network from Hogwarts to St. Mungo's.  Ginny and Hermione were getting very hyper and silly, giggling over the simplest thing.  It would have been annoying if it hadn't been for the fact that they were easy teasing targets when they were like that.  Luckily, though, they were too excited to even care.

The waiting room of the St. Mungo's delivery ward was quite empty when they arrived, but Mr. Weasley joined them soon after their arrival and told them that everything was fine and that there was still probably quite a bit of time before the baby was born.  He disappeared again soon, though, leaving the children to themselves.

"Do you remember any of this?" Ron asked, glancing up at the twins who were occupying themselves by working on some random Quidditch diagrams.  

Fred shook his head, but George nodded.  "Yeah, I barely remember when Ginny was born.  You wouldn't shut up, and Grandmum had to walk you all over the hospital to get you to stop crying."  
  
Ron rolled his eyes.

"We should have known then that you were going to be a whiner."  
  


"I do _not _whine," Ron said haughtily, crossing his arms and glaring at the twins ruefully.

"Whine?  You?  _Never!"  _

The voice wasn't one that Harry recognized right away, but apparently four of the six waiting room occupants did.  In fact, Ginny squealed right out loud.

"Charlie!"  She jumped up and raced across the room, actually jumping into his arms.  

  
Charlie laughed and set her back to the ground.  "Happy there, Gin?"

She grinned, looking happier than she had in months actually.  "Where's Bill?" she asked anxiously.

"Do I look like his babysitter?"  Charlie tugged her hair and shrugged.  "He should be around soon."  
  


"Did they find Percy?"

"Hello to you, too, Fred," Charlie said sourly.    
  


Fred, of course, leapt to his feet and shook his older brother's hand roughly.  "Smashing to see you, Charlie!  Now, did they find Percy?"

Charlie shook his head.  "Nope."  
  
Ginny's face fell slightly, and George rolled his eyes.  "Should have known he wouldn't even turn up for this."  
  
Charlie shrugged again.  "Well, I'm here. Isn't that plenty?"

"More than enough," George said sarcastically.

Charlie slugged him across the shoulder and then turned to Ron.  "And how is darling little non-whining Ron?"

"Shut up."

"Now, is that any way to greet your favorite brother?"

"Is Bill here?" Ron feigned innocence.  "I didn't see him."

Charlie laughed and tousled Ron's hair, earning himself a hateful glare, which he simply shrugged away.  "Harry, mate.  How are you?"

Harry smiled and shrugged.  "Okay, I guess."  
  


"Wonderful."  Then, with a wicked glint in his eye, Charlie turned to Hermione.  "And Hermione...  I hear you've been snogging my baby brother for the past three months."

Everyone, save Hermione and said 'baby brother,' burst into laughter.  Hermione turned bright red and looked straight to the floor.  Ron, though, sent death glares in the direction of all his present siblings, especially at Charlie; then he turned to a still snickering Harry beside him and shoved him.  "Shut _up," he said seriously._

Harry tried, but it was no use.  The laughing didn't die down in the least; in fact, there was no noise but laughter until another voice joined the mix.    
  


"What the hell is so funny?"  Bill Weasley was standing in the doorway of the waiting room, observing his younger siblings and their friends.    
  


"Oh, we were just discussing little Ronnie's love life."  Charlie's eyes were still glinting maliciously.

Ron groaned loudly and stood up, reaching behind him to grab Hermione's hand and pull her to her feet as well.  "When you all get over it, please inform us," he said snidely before marching straight out of the waiting room.

After his best friends had disappeared into the hallway, Harry joined the rest of the Weasleys in laughing hysterically.  It really was quite amusing.

*************************************************

A little while later, Harry sat alone in the waiting room.  Ron and Hermione hadn't yet returned from wherever they'd run off to, and all of the others had gone downstairs to the cafeteria to get lunch.  The Weasley grandparents had shown up and almost immediately hustled their grandchildren into eating, but not before Mr. Weasley (the elder) had nearly gone out of his mind at seeing 'Famous Harry Potter.'  Harry's hand was still sore from the way the old man had grabbed it and shaken it roughly, congratulating him on saving the world.  Harry simply smiled nervously and didn't point out that he really hadn't saved anything at all, seeing as there was still a Dark Wizard on the loose, who now had revenge to add to his list of reasons why the rest of the world should suffer.  It was the first time he'd ever met Ron's grandparents, but he saw instantly the resemblance between Ron's father and his father's father.  It was strange, really, but it truly was like being with just a slightly older version of the Mr. Weasley he was used to.  The grandmother had asked immediately where Ron was, and Harry had told her that he was taking a walk and that Harry would wait for him and send him down when he returned.  This had satisfied the woman, and she and her husband had shooed the rest of their grandchildren out of the waiting room and downstairs.

  
Harry was just about to get up and go look for his friends when they reappeared in the waiting room.

"Where've you been so long?"

Ron shrugged.  "We were just walking."  
  
There was something on Ron's face that said that they hadn't been 'just walking,' namely a slight trace of pale pink lipgloss that happened to match perfectly the shade that Hermione was wearing on her own lips.  Harry rolled his eyes and didn't comment on it right away. 

"Well, your grandparents showed up and made everyone go eat lunch."

Ron smiled slightly.  "Which ones?"

"Your dad's parents.  Are your mum's coming, too?"

Ron shrugged.  "I guess so.  I don't really know.  But why didn't you go with them?"

Harry glowered slightly.  "Well, I was waiting on you two for one.  And also because your grandfather nearly broke my hand off shaking it."

Ron snickered.  "Yeah.  I figured as much.  Sorry 'bout that."  
  
Harry shrugged dismissively.  "What took so long, though?"  

"Oh," Hermione spoke up for the first time.  "There's a Muggle pay telephone down the hall, and I wanted to call my parents since we're not allowed to go to Hogsmeade anymore."

This certainly got Harry's attention.  "Really?  Where is it?"

Hermione smiled faintly.  "Down the hall on the left.  It takes knuts, too."  
  
Harry was glad for this because he certainly didn't have any Muggle money on him, not that he had much of it at all anyway.  "Well, I'll be back later, okay?  I told your grandmum that you'd go down there when you got back."

Ron nodded.  "Yeah, all right.  See you later then."  
  
Harry nodded again and started to the door in a hurry; he turned around halfway there, though, and looked straight at his best friend.  "Oh, yeah.  That's a nice shade of lipgloss you've chosen there."

Ron's eyes narrowed slightly in confusion before Hermione, red for the second time that day, flipped Harry off and reached up to smear the remnants of gloss away from Ron's face.  Harry laughed and left the room.

He found the phone a little way down the hall and was thankful that there was no one waiting to use it.  He deposited the proper amount of money and dialed a number he'd long since memorized.

"Hello?"  A man's voice answered the line.

"Um, hi," he said nervously.  "Is Gia there?"

"Who is this?"

Harry paused for a second, unsure of himself.  He'd met Gia's father and step-mother a few times, but he wasn't sure if her dad would know who he was if he gave his name.  He didn't have any other choice, though, so he just answered, "This is Harry.  May I speak to Gia, please?"

There was no answer to his question.  Instead, he heard the man call out quite loudly.  "Gianna!  Telephone for you!"

It sounded odd to hear her called as Gianna because, though Harry knew that it was her proper name, she'd told him once that she despised it.  A few moments later, though, he heard footsteps coming towards the phone.    
  


"Who is it?" she asked away from the receiver.

"I don't know," the man said hastily.  "Some boy.  Don't talk too long; I'm expecting a call."

"Hello?"  Gia's voice, sweet and perfectly accented finally answered the line.

"Hey!"

"Harry!"  Gia sounded quite thrilled and surprised.  He could hear the smile that mirrored his own.  "Hold on a second," she said in a much quieter voice.  He heard shuffling about and a door close before she spoke again.  "Okay, sorry.  I had to take the phone into the closet because Anne is a nosy bitch, and she was listening."

Harry laughed at Gia's outright contempt for her step-mother.  "Your dad didn't seem too thrilled, either."  
  
She snorted.  "I know.  I'm surprised he even let me talk.  He's in a bad mood because one of his business deals went under yesterday.  But anyway, I thought you couldn't call anymore."  
  


"Yeah, but I'm at the hospital right now, and there's a phone here."

"The hospital?"  Gia sounded worried.  "What happened?"

"Oh!  Nothing.  No."  Harry grinned.  "Ron's mum is having the baby, so we all got to come over here."

"Really?"  Gia's voice sounded much brighter.  "Has she had it yet?"

"Not yet.  But it should be soon, though.  We've been here for a couple of hours already, but I didn't know there was a phone until Hermione told me."

"You don't know how happy I am that you called!  God, things are awful here!"

Harry's brow knitted slightly.  "Why?  What's going on?"

She groaned.  "Not really anything.  Just the same old shit, but that's bad enough."

Harry found it amusing that Gia seemed to swear even more than Ron did.  "Things are actually pretty okay here," he said honestly.  "I think I stopped failing all my classes."

  
She laughed.  "Well, that's good."

"Yeah, no kidding."

"Ah!  I didn't tell you!"  She sighed slightly.  "I went to the dentist yesterday, and I have to get my wisdom teeth cut out because they're coming in already.  And it is going to hurt so badly!"

He cringed, knowing the process that was taken to get wisdom teeth out.  "When do you have to get it done?"

"In three weeks," she said regretfully.  "Hermione's mum is doing it."  
  


"She's your dentist?"  For some reason, Harry found this funny.

"She's always been my dentist.  I'm scared of her dad, though, so I never go to him."

Harry laughed.  "I'm scared of him, too."

"Yeah, but for completely different reasons," she said seriously, but she was giggling.

It was so easy to talk to Gia.  He never wanted to hang up.

Eventually, though, they were forced to hang up.  Gia's father started yelling at her that he was probably missing important phone calls and demanded that she get off the phone.  There was also an elderly witch waiting to use the telephone at St. Mungo's, and she kept wagging a long, shriveled finger at Harry and telling him to hurry up.  After promising to call her again if the chance arose, he regretfully hung up the phone, managing to give only a slight glare to the old witch.

He returned to the waiting room to see if anyone had returned from lunch but found it completely empty.  He wondered briefly if the baby had been born, and he was about to go to the help desk and ask one of the nurses on duty when he caught a glimpse of red hair at the other end of the hall.

"Gin!"  He sprinted in her direction, feeling a bit odd at shortening her name; he'd never done that before.  He wondered fleetingly if it was alright, but he decided quickly that it was.  They were friends, right?

Ginny stopped and spun around, looking a little surprised as he jogged down the hall toward her.  She'd pulled her hair up sometime during the last hour, and it now rested against the back of her head in an unruly bun.

He stopped when he reached her and quickly caught his breath.  "Your mum didn't have the baby, did she?"

Ginny shook her head.  "No, I just checked with a nurse, and she said it could still be awhile."

"Well, good."  He grinned.  "Longer before we have to go back to school."

  
She smiled, too, and he realized what a nice smile it was.  She'd smiled and laughed a lot earlier in the year, but that had all changed recently.

"Do you know if Ron and Hermione went downstairs?"

Ginny's smile turned into a rather sickened scowl.  "Well, I _suppose that's where they were headed off to, but apparently they got sidetracked.  They were snogging just outside the restaurant."  She rolled her eyes.  "I was going to tell them that everyone was finished eating, but they didn't even notice me.  So, I just left them there."  A grin, a sly grin, now covered her face.  "You know, for Fred and George and Bill and Charlie to find.  Oh, yeah.  And my grandparents."_

She giggled and Harry laughed.  _This _was the Ginny he'd grown so fond of during the summer and early months of the school year.

"Serves them right," Harry said.  "They're about to make me throw up."

"Join the club," she said sarcastically.  "I thought it was sweet at first, but now it's just gross.  And it's got to be a million times worse for you because you actually have to be around them all the time."

He laughed and shrugged.  "Nah.  It's really not so bad.  They usually refrain from touching each other when I'm around."

"Well, they certainly weren't refraining down by the restaurant..."  She broke off giggling again.  "It's a good thing we're in a hospital.  Grandmum'll probably have a coronary when she sees her youngest grandson groping the infamous Hermione Granger."

"Infamous?"

"Oh, yes," Ginny said seriously.  "My grandmother is an avid reader of Witch Weekly_.  _She knows every detail of _Harry Potter's Secret Heartache."  _

Harry groaned at the memory of the previous year's news articles.  "She didn't really believe it, did she?"

"Harry, my _mother believed it, and she _knows _you.  And Hermione!  Everyone believed it."  She rolled her eyes again.  "Ron even believed it for a bit."_

Harry nearly choked on his own sputterings.  "What?!"

Ginny seemed surprised that he didn't know.  "Back when the first article came out- when you two were mad at each other."  
  
Harry frowned, not quite believing that Ron could be that stupid.

"Well, he _said he believed it," she went on, "but I don't think he did.  Not really anyway.  He was just looking for something else to be mad about."_

"That's stupid!"

"That's Ron."

Harry vaguely nodded.  "True."

"So, anyway," she went on, "I figure it'll be a good laugh if everyone catches them."

"Don't you feel sorry for them?"  Harry really didn't; he thought it was quite funny actually.

Ginny shrugged.  "Nah, I'll just consider it payback."

"Payback for what?"

Ginny thought for a minute, obviously trying to decide on a reason, and then grinned.  "He broke my nose when I was seven."  She pointed to it.  "That's why it's flat right here."

"He broke your nose?!  How?!"

"With his fist."

Harry's eyes widened. 

Ginny just shrugged again, as if it were no big deal.  "Well, I had just slammed his other hand in our bedroom door."

  
Harry still couldn't quite believe it.  "He broke your nose because you accidentally shut his hand in the door?"

"Not shut," she corrected.  "_Slammed.  _And it wasn't an accident.  He walked on my side of the room, so he deserved it."  
  
Harry couldn't help it; he burst out laughing.  The pictures forming in his mind were quite amusing.  "So, then he just turned around and hit you?"

She shook her head.  "No, he cried first."  Harry snickered as she finished.  "_Then _he hit me."

"And what did you do?"

"Cried."  Her eyes twinkled.  "Then I tattled."

Harry chuckled.  "What happened?"

She giggled, obviously finding the memory quite hilarious.  "Well, it happened at the perfect time because it was summer, so Mum and Dad had gone out and left us with our brothers.  And I ran downstairs screaming with all this blood running down my face."  She giggled again.  "And then Ron came racing down the stairs and tried to rip my hair out of my head, so, naturally, I screamed and ran straight to Bill."  
  


"And?"

"He yelled at Ron and told him off.  Then Charlie told him off.  Then Percy told him, and Ron kicked him."

Harry broke into laughter again, and Ginny joined him.  Several people in the hallway shushed them, so they forced themselves to quiet down and started walking directionlessly through the hall.  "So, what happened then?"

"Well, Percy called him an 'incorrigible brat who didn't have the sense given to an earthworm.'  And Ron kicked him again and said, 'Yeah?  Well, no one likes you, asshole.'"

Harry nearly choked.  "Wasn't he eight?!"

She nodded, almost looking proud.  "Yep.  It was really funny.  Bill almost dropped me because he and Charlie were laughing so hard."  
  


"What did Percy do?"

"He tried to strangle Ron."  Harry couldn't even picture that, it was so hilarious.  "I think it was the only time I've ever seen Percy get violent.  But he started choking Ron, and Ron kneed him in... you know..."  Harry did know, and he couldn't stop laughing now.  Ginny had to take another break to snicker.  "So, of course, he let go, and Ron kicked him again just for the hell of it."  She sighed.  "But I started screaming because everyone seemed to forget that I was supposed to be the injured one."

"Well, what about your nose?"

"Oh, Bill fixed it.  He'd just graduated.  And Ron was like, 'What about me?!' because his fingers were all blue and purple.  So, Charlie shoved him down and stomped on his hand."  Harry gasped but then decided it was really very funny.  "And Ron started crying again, so Charlie hit him and told him he was acting like a little girl."

"Did he stop crying?"

Ginny nodded.  "Yeah, I guess being called a little girl was the worst insult imaginable."

Harry remembered being called a little girl by Dudley when he was younger because he always refused to fight back.  It wasn't because he was scared, as his cousin always accused; it was simply because Harry wasn't stupid.  Dudley had always been twice his size, even when they were very young.  He wouldn't have stood a chance even if he'd tried.  Harry had always been extremely small for his age, and Dudley had always been extremely large for his; there was just no point to fighting back.  Not to mention the fact that Dudley had a whole group of friends who would hold Harry down if he tried to struggle, while Harry had exactly zero friends.  

The closest he'd ever come to making friends in primary school had been in the middle of his second grade year.  A girl named Tabitha McCrory had come to their school in December.  She was quite pretty, with two blonde pigtails and a sprinkle of freckles across her nose, and being new, she didn't know that talking to Harry would spell bad news for her.  They'd gotten on quite well for about a week, but then one of Dudley's friends had tripped her in the hallway.  After that, she hadn't spoken to Harry anymore.  Except for once during the last year Harry had spent in Muggle school.  The art teacher had forced her to apologize after she had 'accidentally' dumped a whole jar of red paint on him.  If Dudley had let girls into his group, Tabitha McCrory would have been a prime choice.  She probably would have held Harry down and laughed while Dudley called him a little girl, waiting for him to cry.

But Harry never cried.

  
Not in front of Dudley.  Not in front of Dudley's parents.  Not in front of anyone.

There was no point in giving them the satisfaction.

On the very rare occasion growing up that Harry had allowed himself to cry, he'd waited until late at night when the Dursleys had already gone to bed, and he was locked alone in his cupboard.  Then he would sob for hours into his ratty pillow, wishing for a new life.  It was a standard prayer.  He would pray each night to be taken away from his aunt and uncle, pray that his parents were really alive and coming back go get him, pray that he could just be normal.  When he was very small, he'd clung desperately to the storybook promise of a fairy godmother that would grant all his wishes.

But he grew up quickly and stopped believing in magic.

Shaking himself back to reality, he realized that Ginny was still talking.  He focused his attention back on her.  She drummed her fingers along the wall as they walked.  "So, then Bill locked Ron in our room for the rest of the night."

"Where were Fred and George?"

Ginny looked thoughtful for a second.  "I don't really remember.  They were probably up in their room plotting what bug to slip into Percy's oatmeal."

Harry rolled his eyes.  "So, after all Ron went through, you still think payback is deserved?"

She giggled.  "Nah, but I need an excuse for not telling him that Grandmum and Granddad were about to come out.  But anyway, that whole episode got a whole lot worse when Mum and Dad got home."  Harry raised his eyebrows.  "Dad yelled and yelled, which he didn't normally do.  And then Mum yelled, and I guess Ron was being stubborn and got smart with her because she walloped him a couple of times."  She shook her head.  "And then Percy butted in and informed them that Ron had called him an asshole, except I think Percy said, 'a degrading name involving a part of the body's lower extremity and a vacant incision in the ground'"  Harry burst into laughter at that.

"So, what happened then?"

"Well, I remember Dad chuckling, but Mum didn't find it amusing at all.  She was _livid!  She actually washed Ron's mouth out with soap."_

"Obviously it didn't work."

Ginny grinned.  "Obviously."

"That is so not fair, though," Harry said.  "You started it, and he got all the blame."

"I didn't start it!  He's the one that walked on my side of the bedroom."  She snickered.  "Of course, he only came over there to get a chocolate bar I nicked from him."  
  


"That is so mean..."

"Hey!"  Ginny held her hands up.  "I can't help it that he's so much more blamable than I am.  I guess it pays to the prettiest and most charming member of the family."

Harry snorted.  "I guess youngest and only girl have no place in that sentence, huh?"

"It had nothing to do with that," she said innocently.    
  


"Right."

Ginny stared at him indignantly and then shoved into him with her shoulder.  "Keep being sarcastic, and I'll slam _your _hand in a door."

Harry laughed again.  "I used to think you were sweet and innocent," he said honestly.  "Guess I was wrong."

"You weren't wrong," she said huffily.  "I am sweet and innocent.  I just know how to take care of myself."

"Right."  
  


"Sarcasm..." Ginny said warningly, and then she giggled.  "I'm just not afraid of boys.  _And," she continued breezily, "I just happen to know how to get my way.  It's a gift, what can I say?"_

Harry rolled his eyes, but he was laughing.  They walked along some more, just chatting and laughing with each other over silly little things.  Ginny was considerably tall for a girl who was just barely fifteen; in fact, she stood only a few inches shorter than Harry.  Not that Harry was exceptionally tall or anything, of course, but he wasn't as small as he'd once been.  The only other girls he was used to being around were Hermione and Gia, but both of them were rather short, at least much shorter than Ginny was anyway.  It was interesting to hold a conversation with a girl and have her at eye-level.

They had just rounded the same corner for about the fiftieth time when Harry ran straight into Ron.  They looked at each other in confusion for a moment for some reason, as though they'd never met and then suddenly realized they were best friends.

"Where've you been?" Ron asked, looking from his sister to Harry and back again.

"Discussing Ginny's reasons for letting you be humiliated in front of your grandparents," Harry said, sneaking a sideways glance at Ginny and barely dodging the slap she aimed at his arm.  

Ron's eyes widened considerably, and he glared at his younger sister.  "Do you have any clue how annoying you are?"

Ginny rolled her eyes and looked back at him unenthusiastically.  "Probably about as annoying as you are.  If that's even possible."

"Where's Hermione?"  Harry glanced around for his other friend but found no sign of her.

"She went to the bathroom.  She kept asking me why Grandmum was glaring at her after I introduced them.  So, yeah, thanks for that, Gin."

Ginny shrugged lazily.  "Don't mention it."

At that moment, Hermione came around the corner, brushing hair away from her face.  "Where've you two been?" she asked, looking at Harry and Ginny.

  
Ron shook his head.  "Don't ask.  You might kill them."

Hermione looked thoroughly confused, but she didn't have a chance to question any further because Mr. Weasley came hurrying down the hall at full speed.  He stopped abruptly when he spotted his children and grinned broadly at them.

"Did Mum have the baby?" Ginny asked eagerly.

Her father smiled widely, and then he nodded.  "About twenty minutes ago."

All four of the teenagers grew immediately excited, and they bombarded him with questions.

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

"What did you name it?"

"How big is it?"

"Can we see it?"

"One at a time," he said, holding up his hands.  He seemed to be enjoying prolonging their curiosity, as it took him a second to answer the questions.  Finally, though, he continued.  "It's a girl."

Ginny and Hermione squealed with delight; Harry glanced at Ron, who didn't seem disappointed in the least at having a new baby sister.  In fact, he seemed rather excited about it; he was the first one to inquire further.  "What's her name?"

"Her name is Hope."  Mr. Weasley smiled again.  "And she's gorgeous."  
  


"Can we see her?" Ginny asked quickly.

Her father nodded.  "Yes, but I need to tell everyone else.  Where are they?"

"In the waiting room," Ron said briskly.  "Now, can we go see Mum and the baby?"

He nodded.  "Yes, down the hall in room 206.  But don't stay too long because everyone else will want to see her, too, and the room can't be that crowded."

Ginny was down the hall before anyone could even notice, and Ron, Harry, and Hermione followed her quickly.  They arrived at the proper room and followed Ginny's disappearing figure through the door.  Harry had never been in any of the rooms at St. Mungo, and he was surprised to see that they looked much like Muggle hospital rooms, just without all the tubes and electrical monitors.  

Mrs. Weasley was lying on the bed, looking flushed but glowing.  She smiled fondly at them as they entered the room.  She motioned them over with her head.  "Come see her."

Harry and Hermione hung back just a bit while Ron and Ginny hurried to their mother and new sister.  They both sat down on the edge of the bed and bent low over the baby.  "Oh, Mama, she's gorgeous!" Ginny said honestly, raising a finger and brushing it across the infant's forehead.

  
Mrs. Weasley smiled.  "Sit up now, and you can hold her."  
  
Ginny did as she was told and held her arms out for the baby.  Mrs. Weasley carefully placed Hope into her elder daughter's arms and smiled at the sight.  "Now, watch her head," she said gently.  Ginny nodded and concentrated carefully on the baby she was holding.  It was clear that she was in complete awe of the child, and it didn't appear to faze her that she was no longer the youngest or the only girl in her family.  

  
After several more moments, Ron took his eyes away from his sisters and looked back at his mother.  "Can I hold her now?"

Mrs. Weasley nodded and watched as Ginny passed Hope to Ron.  It was clear that he was nervous, probably never having held a baby in his entire life, but he seemed just as in awe of his baby sister as Ginny had.  "She's so little..." he said quietly.  

"Sorry about the day," his mother said, grinning.  "I guess you have to share your birthday from now on."  Ron smiled and shrugged wordlessly.  Mrs. Weasley then looked toward the door where Harry and Hermione were standing and trying to give the family the own time.  "Come and see," she said with a warm smile.    
  
Harry glanced at Hermione who didn't bother to meet his eye.  She apparently had been waiting on an invitation, and she cleared the room almost as quickly as Ginny had in the waiting room when Charlie had arrived earlier.  She dropped to a squatting position in front of Ron and pulled the blanket back from the baby's face.  Her own face seemed to melt at the sight, much the same way Ginny's had.  She turned back to Harry and motioned him over with her head.  Harry went over to the bed and crouched beside her, really looking at Hope for the first time.

Everyone was right.  She _was _gorgeous.

"Wow..."  That was really all he could think to say.  She was small, but she had chubby little cheeks and pouty lips.  Her eyes were closed, and she was sleeping peacefully, a halo of light red curls crowning her head.

And, as they all stared down at the tiny little miracle in front of them, the outside world ceased to exist.  For a few precious moments, all that mattered was the slumbering baby they were all crowded around.

Harry forgot all about everything else, and, for a brief time, he felt a strange sense of... Hope?

********************************************

Argh!  That took forever to get out!  Because it took so long, I'll give you a glimpse of what's in the coming chapters...

Another Weasley sibling (and I don't mean Hope) shows up and rocks them all.  
  
Easter holidays arrive, and everyone heads to the Burrow.

  
Mr. and Mrs. Granger show back up, and Gia makes her reappearance.

A special moment between our favorite couple...

Danger lurks during the first return trip to Hogsmeade.

  
The threat of tragedy nearly rips the trio apart.

And...  much, much more!!!!


	62. Visions

A/N:  So, this was a lot quicker, huh?  Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter!!!  The response was amazing!

Disclaimer:  Still not mine (unfortunately).

********************************

Hermione smiled fondly to herself as she searched the shelves of the history section in the Hogwarts library.  She had accomplished the impossible.  She had successfully gotten Ron to start working on a homework assignment an entire _week _before it was due.  In fact, it had only been assigned that very day.

Of course, Ron was in an exceptionally good mood, so that didn't hurt.  He and his siblings were quickly becoming the center of attention at breakfast each morning, as it seemed all of Gryffindor was always eagerly awaiting new photographs of Hope.  His parents sent them regularly, along with letters documenting her progression.  She was doing perfectly, and that morning, the note had informed them that she had smiled for the first time; a picture of her doing just that had accompanied.  By luck, Ron had gotten possession of that photo, practically having to wrestle it away from Ginny in the Great Hall, and Hermione had watched him draw it out randomly throughout their school day and grin at it.  And besides the news on his sister, he was also still elated from Gryffindor's win against Ravenclaw the weekend before.  Winning the match 190-40 had secured Gryffindor's place as the winner of the Quidditch Cup and earned them fifty extra House points.  

Even with him in such a good mood, though, Hermione had still been forced to practically drag him down the stairs and into the library.  He'd been engaged in a rather serious game of chess against Seamus, who, surprisingly, wasn't too far from beating Ron.  Hermione hadn't been watching the game, but she had noticed the intense look crossing Ron's face when she happened to glance over at him after looking up from her Herbology assignment.  Out of curiosity, she'd wandered over to the small crowd that was slowly gathering around the board and had taken a seat on one of the sofas in between Dean and Natalie Macdonald, a second year who was watching more of Seamus Finnigan than of the actual game; she was staring at him with wide doe-eyes and a dreamy sort of look on her dimpled face.

"Check!" Seamus exclaimed giddily, earning him several slaps on the back from the people standing close enough.  No one had ever beaten Ron in chess, and it was an extreme rarity to see someone even get close.

Ron looked up, annoyed at the crowd, and shushed them roughly.  But then he noticed Hermione, and he sent her a half sort of smile, his cheeks tingeing to just the slightest shade of pink.  She gave him an encouraging nod, and he turned his full attention back to the board.

He managed to get himself out of check, and, after another few moves, he successfully trapped Seamus and won the match.

"You cheating bastard," Seamus said, standing up and thumping Ron on the forehead.  Hermione rolled her eyes at the way Ron just beamed back at the remark as though it were a wonderful compliment.  There were some things about boys that she would _never _understand.

"Why don't you learn how to lose graciously, Finnigan?" Ron asked snidely.  "Then you won't look like such a tosser every time you play me."

There were several snorts of laughter from around the gradually thinning crowd.  Seamus and Ron sent a few more friendly insults at one another before Hermione finally caught the redhead's attention as he was packing away the board.

"What're you about to do?" she asked, perching herself onto the armrest of a chair beside the game table.  

Ron looked at her and shrugged.  "I dunno.  Probably go find Harry and see if he wants to play Snap or something."

Hermione realized that she didn't know where Harry was and hadn't seen him since breakfast.  Of course, that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.  Especially when she was attempting the impossible.  "Do you want to study with me?"

"Do I want to study?"  Ron drew the words out into long syllables.  "Hmm...  There's a tough question."  
  
She kicked her foot out at him and hit his stomach.  "Shut up.  I'm being serious."

Ron finished gathering the pawns and packing them into the velvet pouch in which they were stored.  "Hermione, this might come as a shock to you, but not everyone finds studying as exhilaratingly exciting as you seem to."

She just looked at him.  "I just want to finish up that essay on Orson the Ogling Ogre."

"It was just assigned this morning!" he exclaimed in disbelief, as if no one in their right mind would even _fathom _doing an assignment on the day it was announced.  

"I know when it was assigned."  
  


"And it's not due for another week!"

"I know when it is due."

Ron sighed in exasperation.  "Then what is the big rush?"

Truthfully, Hermione just hated being on a close deadline.  Ron, though, was the type of person that would actually be finishing a piece of homework up at breakfast and not worrying at all about whether or not he was going to get done.  Luckily, though, she was prepared with an answer.

"Well," she said, making sure to look away shyly, "if we finish it early, we would have more time for... other things."

She caught the way Ron's eyes grew slightly larger at the promise of 'other things.'  She was actually referring to things such as getting ahead in Transfiguration and, of course, studying for the O.W.L.s, but Ron could assume whatever he wanted to.  

And she knew exactly what he would assume.

It wasn't as if they'd done _that _awfully much.  Yet.  But things were continually getting a little more intense each time they managed to snag a few minutes alone together.  And Hermione could definitely see the possibilities.

Not that she would _ever _tell anyone else that, of course.  Because, honestly, who was she going to tell?  She couldn't tell Ron because that would just be plain embarrassing.  She couldn't tell Harry because...  well, basically because Harry would tell Ron.  She couldn't tell Ginny because Ginny might kill her if she wasn't too busy throwing up.  The only other people she would even _consider _telling anything personal to were Parvati and Lavender, and she certainly wasn't telling either of them.

So, she was prepared to just be patient and let things go as they would.  She didn't want to hurry anything, and she was actually quite pleased at the pace things were moving. 

But whatever her real intentions were as she used the words 'other things,' Ron naturally assumed the most exciting, and he went to the library with her willingly.  Now, she was standing in the O aisle and searching for information on Orson the Ogling Ogre.  Ron had offered to take her things and go find them a table while she looked for research information.  There didn't seem to be too many possibilities, and she wondered briefly why Professor Binns would assign them a report on someone who wasn't very popular in the resource department.  He had, though, and she reached for the only book that looked as if it could be even remotely helpful.

She spotted Ron across the library; he was paying her no attention as he set their inks and quills up.  The shortest way to the table he had picked was through the Muggle fiction section, so she started down that aisle, glancing carelessly at titles she had once studied in primary school.  She'd probably been the only eight year old in the world to do a book reports on _Wuthering Heights _and _A Tale of Two Cities.  _She looked up from her scan of the novels when she heard a familiar voice just on the other side of the shelf where Ron was sitting.

"What're you doing?"  Harry's question was answered by a rather reluctant sounding Ron.

"The essay on Orson..."  
  
A snort of laughter sounded, and Hermione assumed it was Harry.  "It's not due for a whole week!"

"I know."

"So, this is what having Hermione as a girlfriend gets you, huh?"

Hermione had been ready to march around the corner and tell Harry that he should be working on the essay, too, but she stopped short when she heard her name mentioned.  And hearing her name mentioned in the same sentence with the word 'girlfriend' actually made her glance around to make sure that no one was watching her and then drop to her knees so that she could move away some of the lower books and view the scene she was eavesdropping on.

Harry had seated himself on the edge of the table, and Ron was sitting in one of the wooden chairs.  He was facing the side, but she could still make out his face, and she was pleased to see that it didn't look completely appalled.  So far, neither of them had actually used the words 'boyfriend' or 'girlfriend.'  It was naturally assumed by most of their classmates that those were the proper classifications, but Hermione was a bit apprehensive about how Ron reacted to such assumptions.  He'd never really commented on the situation, and neither had she.  But it was a relief to see for sure that he wasn't totally disgusted with the idea that she would be his actual girlfriend.

Ron shrugged and glanced to the table.  "I guess so," he muttered.  It was obvious that he was actually embarrassed at doing his homework ahead of time and being caught by his best friend.

"So, how's that going?"  Harry slid into one of the chairs surrounding the table, giving Hermione a much better view of his face.

"How's what going?  The essay?  I haven't even started yet!"

"Not the essay, you dolt!" Harry exclaimed in a quiet voice.  "_Hermione."_

Ron looked confused.  "What about her?"

"What's she like?"

"What do you mean?" Ron wrinkled his forehead.  "You've known her for five years."

Harry looked incredibly frustrated.  "I mean what's she like as a girlfriend?"

Hermione's own eyes widened simultaneously with Ron's, and she pressed herself even closer to the ground in order to get a better view.  She couldn't quite believe that she had lowered herself to eavesdropping, but desperate times called for desperate measures.  

She watched as Ron shrugged again and looked away.  "I don't really have a lot to compare her to."  Hermione almost felt disappointed until he finished with, "But I wouldn't want to anyway."

She bit into her lip.  Hard.  

"You really do like her, huh?"

Ron turned very red, but he actually looked up and made eye contact with Harry again before answering very quietly.  "Yeah.  I do.  I reckon I have for a long time now."

She pursed her lips, trying not to smile so largely.

"But what is it?" Harry went on.  "Why all of a sudden did you just realize it?"

There was a rather long pause, and Hermione waited for Ron to give an explanation.  Finally, he said, "I dunno.  I guess I just really noticed this summer, you know, how pretty she really is.  You think she's pretty, don't you?"

Harry nodded.  "Yeah, but she's always been cute.  You just never noticed before."

Ron shook his head.  "Yes, I did," he mumbled quietly.  "I just never wanted to admit it."

"But what else besides that?"

"She smells really good."  
  
"What?!"  Harry snorted again, apparently finding this quite hilarious.  Hermione craned her neck to get a better angle.  "She _smells _good?"

Ron, turning quite red, nodded.  "Yeah.  Have you ever smelled her hair?"

"Can't say that I have..."  Harry actually looked a bit put off by the suggestion.

"Well, it smells like lemons and coconuts."  
  


"Is that so?"  Harry looked very amused.

But Ron just nodded again.  "Yeah, and it's great.  And she can be really funny, you know?  Especially now that she's not _so _obsessed with her grades.  But you know what the best part is?"

Harry shook his head.

"She's brilliant."

"Of course she is," Harry said dismissively.  "She's always been smart, but that's always annoyed you before now."  
  


"No, it hasn't," Ron interrupted.  "Not really.  I wasn't ever annoyed that she was smart; I would just get annoyed when she used to flaunt it.  But she doesn't do that anymore.  Not much."  He smiled slightly.  "And she knows _everything, _and it's amazing.  It's like, you can ask her a question, any question, and she knows the answer.  Or if she doesn't know, she knows how to find out.  And her brain just works so quickly and so efficiently and, I don't know, it's just cool."

"And she can see the future," Harry pointed out mock-seriously.

"That, too."  Ron grinned.

Hermione felt her own cheeks heating up quite quickly, and, in with a flurry, she stood, forgetting the book on the floor.  Without another thought, she hurried to the other side of the shelf where both boys looked surprised to see her.

"Where's the research?" Ron asked, eyeing her now empty arms.

She shrugged.  "There really wasn't much."

Ron just stared at her with yet another look of confusion.

"I don't care anyway," she went on.  "I'm not really in the mood to do homework right now anyway.  I think I want a walk actually."

Harry and Ron glanced at each other.  Finally, Ron said, "Do you want us to come with you?"

She shrugged in what she hoped was a nonchalant manner.  "If you want to.  If you're not busy."  She looked at Harry, and it was by some miracle that he seemed to read her mind.

"Um," he said, standing up and gathering up his own bag.  "Actually, I have some work to do in the greenhouses.  You know, for Professor Sprout."

Hermione smiled brightly.  "Oh, that's too bad.  Well, we'll see you back in the Common Room later, okay?"

Harry just stared weirdly at her for a moment before nodding.  "Yeah, okay.  See you."  And then he turned around and left.

"Why'd you change your mind?" Ron asked as he watched her quickly packing away the supplies he'd just set up.  

She shrugged again.  "I don't know.  I just don't feel like doing homework right now."

"Are you ill?" he asked playfully, teasingly putting a hand to her forehead to check to see if she was warm.  "Perhaps we should take a walk to the infirmary."    
  
Hermione ducked away from him, trying desperately not to notice how the touch of his hand really _did _make her hot all over.  "Stop," she scolded.  "Let's just go, okay?"  She grabbed her bag and handed him his own.  He took it, looking at her as if she really had lost her mind.  

"Okay..."

Seven minutes later, they were at their destination.  Hermione grabbed Ron's hand and dragged him into the small room after her.  When the door was shut behind them, and they were left in total darkness, Ron finally asked another question.

  
"What is this?"

Hermione didn't answer.  Instead, she used her gradually adjusting eyes to find Ron's outline and do something she'd been wanting to do since they'd been in the library.  

She kissed him.

Afterwards, she lit the tip of her wand, and they stayed in the small linen room for a very long while.

***********************************

Later that night, Hermione dreamt.

She'd gone to bed relatively early, snuggled deep beneath her covers with Crookshanks lingering at the foot of her bed, randomly attacking her toes whenever she made a movement.  Her sleep was light and dream-ridden, but most of the dreams were senseless.  It didn't matter, though; there was just one that she needed to remember.

The dream setting was an odd one, one that she wasn't familiar with and was positive that she had never seen before.  As was common in the few 'dream visions' she'd had, she could see everything that was taking place but no one could see her.  Not that it mattered, of course; she didn't recognize a single person in the room.

At first, it didn't seem as if anything of importance was even taking place, and she was confused as to why she was being shown any of this at all.  It was soon clear, though, when a few of the men that were scattered about the room began speaking.

"Are you sure he'll have what we need?" asked on particularly fat man with a mop of unruly mousy hair.

"Of course, he will," answered another, a more dignified man who appeared to have stemmed from great wealth.  "His brother is Potter's best friend."

Hermione froze, but something in her mind told her to get closer so she could hear the conversation better.  Another man was speaking now; he looked closer to the second one, wealthy and educated.

"Not only that, but Potter has been known to visit his house on several occasions."

"But can't we get that out of Pettigrew?" asked the fat man.  "Didn't he live with that very house for twelve years?"

The first of the two wealthy men rolled his eyes.  "Do you need to be reminded that he was a _rat?  _And apparently a very _sleepy _rat at that."

Hermione felt her heart start to slow down, and a feeling of dread crept deep inside of her.  Knowing that there was no real point, she ducked behind a chair and knelt down when the door opened.  No one was going to see her anyway, but it just made her feel safer.  

"We're ready," announced one of the dignitaries, motioning for everyone else to get silent.  "Bring him in."  
  
The person who had entered the room appeared to be a guard of some sort.  He was very big, but he apparently took orders well.  He nodded and exited again.  
  


"Now, I will do all of the talking," announced the richest looking man.  No one questioned his authority, simply nodded and sat down.

The doors opened again, and Hermione gasped.  The guard was back and dragging a tall, thin redhead behind him.  "Mr. Lestrange," he said clearly, "your guest has arrived.  Mr. Percival Weasley."

Hermione stared at the one-time Head Boy.  She hadn't seen Percy since last year when he showed up at the Triwizard Tournament, and he didn't look anything at all like the pompous man he had at that point.  Percy, despite his families meager financial means, had always managed to dress the part of importance.  His clothes were always perfectly pressed and spotless, and he never had more than the necessary amount of hair.  Now, though, he was wearing filthy clothes, jeans and an old, tattered sweatshirt.  His hair was long and dirty, and the distinct outline of a beard was beginning to make its way onto his usually clean-shaven face.  His glasses were gone, and there was nothing at all about him that resembled the ambitious and important person he so desperately strived to be.

The man who Hermione could only assume was the recent Azkaban escapee, Alexander Lestrange, smiled coolly at his visitor.  "Mr. Weasley, please have a seat."  He motioned to a comfortable looking sofa and waited until Percy was shoved, rather than seated, into the chair.    
  


"What the hell do you want?"  It was the first time Hermione had ever heard Percy even remotely swear, but it sounded strangely normal coming from the raggedy man in front of her.

"Just some information," Lestrange said casually.  "I understand you might have a bit that would be quite useful to us."  
  


"I'm not telling you _anything," _he said fiercely.  "You'll have to kill me first!"

"I'm sure that could be arranged," the other man said loftily.  "However, you are of no use to us dead, so before we get to that part of the ceremony, I was wondering if you could answer a few questions."

Percy glared at the circle of men who were hanging onto each word eagerly and gleefully.  "I already said that I'm saying nothing.  And I mean it."

"Oh, but you will."  Lestrange pulled a small vial out of his robe pocket and held it up to be viewed.  "Surely an educated young man such as yourself knows all about the powers of Veritaserum."

Percy looked faint; the color was draining rapidly from his face, and Hermione wished there was some way she could let him know that he wasn't alone, that she was there with him.  But there wasn't.  Because she wasn't really there at all.

"Trevis," Lestrange motioned to the fat man, "would you please hold Mr. Weasley still while we treat him with the first part of the banquet?"

Hermione watched with sickness as Trevis made his way to the sofa and forcefully held down a helplessly struggling Percy as Lestrange slowly twisted the cap off of the vial and placed it to Percy's lips.  Percy made a gagging noise and twisted violently.  However, Lestrange simply stepped back and counted down from five.

"Five...  Four...  Three...  Two..."  Percy went limp.  "One."

Hermione could feel her heart pounding a mile a minute.  She prayed to whatever deities she could recall to stop this tragedy from taking place, but it was no use.  Percy had been given a very powerful does of Veritaserum, and he was now completely willing at his kidnapper's hands.

"What is your full name?"

"Percival Christopher Weasley."  
  


"How old are you?"

"Twenty years old."

"Where do you work?"

"At the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Foreign Affairs."

"Are you married?"

"No."

"Do you have any children?"

"No."

"How many siblings do you have?"

"Six."  Hermione realized that Percy probably had no idea that the number was now seven.

"Could you please name them, starting with the eldest and ending with the youngest?"

Percy seemed to be in a trance, listing off the names of his siblings tonelessly.  "William Weasley, Charles Weasley, Frederick Weasley, George Weasley, Ronald Weasley, Virginia Weasley."  Once again, Hermione thought of Hope, and her heart ached for the fact that Percy didn't even know about the existence of his youngest sibling, let alone have met her.

"Thank you," Lestrange said, with a horribly demented smile on his face.  "Now, have you ever met Harry Potter?"

"Yes."

"And under what circumstances did you make Mr. Potter's acquaintance?"

Hermione bit into her lower lip and wondered why she couldn't feel any pain.

"We were at Hogwarts together for three years.  We were in the same House."

"Are you or any of your siblings close friends with Mr. Potter?"

Percy didn't answer right away, and Hermione strained to see his face.  It was obvious that he was now struggling internally with answering the questions.  It was as if he knew what he was doing but had absolutely no control over it; no matter how hard he tried, the answers still came.  Finally, he managed to sidestep the question.  "He is on the same Quidditch team as two of my brothers."

Hermione realized that Percy had been gone for so long that he didn't even know Ron now played on the Gryffindor team.  She was thankful, however, that he had gotten around the question.

Lestrange, though, had his own way of getting around answers.  "Is your youngest brother, Ronald Weasley, in any way, friends with Harry Potter?"

Hermione held her breath and watched as Percy squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to lie.  "They are...  They are in the same year and share a dormitory."

Hermione let out the breath.

It was obvious that Lestrange was getting exhausted with the hit and miss questions.  "Is Ronald Weasley considered to be Harry Potter's best friend?"

_Please, please, please... _Hermione begged silently.  _Please say no._

"Yes."

Hermione felt tears start to well in her eyes; she knew this wasn't good.  She didn't know why the Death Eaters were asking questions which were already common knowledge, but she did know that it wasn't for the benefit of their weekly gossip meeting.

"So, your youngest brother is Harry Potter's best friend?"

"Yes."

"Are there any other people who could be considered a best friend of Mr. Potter's?"

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut.

"Hermione Granger."

They flew open again at the sound of her name, and she watched as a smile finally flickered across Lestrange's face.

"Is Miss Granger also in Gryffindor?"

"Yes."

"Is she also in her fifth year of schooling?"

"Yes."

"And of what birth lineage does Miss Granger descend?"

"She is Muggle-born."

"Both of her parents are Muggles?"

"Yes."

Hermione wanted desperately to cry, but she couldn't.  Hearing people discuss her like that was just sickening.

"Has Miss Granger ever visited your family's home?"

"Yes."

"Has Mr. Potter ever visited your family's home?"

"Yes."

"Where is your family's home located?"

"In St. Ottery Catchpole."

"Have you or anyone in your family ever visited Mr. Potter's place of residence?"

"My father and my brothers have."

"And do you know where his home is located?"

"He lives with his aunt and uncle in Surrey."

"And Miss Granger.  Do you know where she resides?"

"I believe she lives with her parents in Sutton."

Hermione felt as if she was going to throw up.  Why did they want to know where Harry lived?  And _why _did they want to know where she lived?

Suddenly, though, Hermione felt a tugging, and she realized she was being removed from the dream.  She struggled, trying to stay for as long as possible and find out any other questions they might ask.  It was of no use, though.

Moments later, she woke up in the fifth year girls' dormitory in Gryffindor Tower, drenched in an ice cold sweat.

***********************************

Dadada... DUM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
You'll just have to wait! ;-)  Reviews, please!


	63. Is Honesty the Best Policy?

A/N:  Another quick update!  Thanks again to everyone who is reviewing so faithfully and to all the first time reviewers as well!  You guys rock!  
  
Disclaimer:  Unfortunately, no, they do not belong to me.

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Ron pounded on the heavy door impatiently.  "Where the hell is he?!"

Harry was standing back a bit and glancing around the hallway nervously.  He looked over to Hermione, who he didn't remember ever looking as pale as she did at that moment.  In what he hoped was a somewhat soothing manner, he reached for her hand and squeezed it gently, but she just looked at him with eyes far too deep for what she normally would have.

Ron banged on the door again.  "The one time we bloody need him, and he's not even here!"

Suddenly, though, the door swung open, and the three Gryffindors were face to face with a very agitated looking Severus Snape.  

"Where's Professor Lupin?" Ron asked, completely ignoring the glare Snape was giving him.

"What, may I ask, is so important that you would nearly break your knuckles banging on a wooden door?"  Professor Snape's eyes lowered to Ron's left hand, which was turning red rather quickly.

"You may not ask," Ron said smartly, and Harry flinched, knowing perfectly well that a statement like that was the _last _thing anyone needed to say to Snape.

  
The professor's eyes narrowed.  "Seventy points from Gryffindor, Weasley, for impertinence."

Ron's mouth dropped open.  "_Seventy?!"_

Snape just looked at him in response.

Rolling his eyes, Ron shrugged.  "Oh, who cares anyway?  This is important!  Where the hell is Professor Lupin?!"

"I will not deal with this right now," Snape said slowly.  "I do not have time for jumpy Gryffindors, who apparently think their association with certain other Gryffindors," his eyes flickered briefly to Harry, "give them the authority to be demanding and overly forward."

Ron opened his mouth to say something that Harry was positive wasn't going to be helpful to them, but thankfully Hermione managed to keep a level head and cut him off before he could even start.  "Professor Snape, we really need to speak with Professor Lupin.  It's very important.  Do you know where he is?"

"I'm not dealing with your high and mighty attitude any better than I deal with your little _friend's _rudeness, Miss Granger."  

Now Hermione's mouth fell open.  Her face turned red, and Harry was scared that for a split second she was going to cry.  However, she apparently had been pushed far enough, and her eyes narrowed considerably.  "I wasn't _being _high and mighty, _Professor," _she said snidely.  "I simply asked you a relatively easy question, one that only requires a yes or a no answer, but apparently that is too difficult for you to comprehend."

Ron and Harry both stared at Hermione in silent shock.  They had _never _seen her be that way to a teacher.  To Malfoy, yes, but this was different.  This was _Snape._

Apparently the Potions professor wasn't ready for her sudden backbone, either, because he looked at her blankly for what seemed like an eternity before swallowing and saying through tight lips.  "Another seventy points from Gryffindor.  You three really need to be taken down a notch or two."

One-hundred and forty points, all in a matter of minutes.  But Harry didn't even care.  He was outraged, and he figured they were already losing the House Cup now, they might as well try and make it two-hundred and ten.

"No, _you're _the one that needs to be taken down a notch or two," he said fiercely, staring at his teacher with a healthy dose of disgust.  "You're the one who always finds ways to make us miserable.  We never did anything to you!  If you're so petty that you let something that happened twenty years ago still affect you, then maybe you need some psychological help."  Snape turned very white, and Harry was vaguely aware of Ron and Hermione both holding their breath.  "All we wanted to do was see Professor Lupin, so God forbid we go to _his _office to look for him!  I don't know what you're doing here, and I don't care.  All I want to know is where Lupin is!"

There was a very heavy silence after that.  Harry could feel the blood pumping behind his ears, and he knew that he had definitely crossed the line somewhere, but he honestly didn't care.  He was sick of Snape thinking that he could intimidate them simply because he had the power to take points away from their House.  But Harry didn't even care about Gryffindor's win anymore; _this _was something much, much more important.  The House Cup was child's play. 

  
This was anything but.

Finally, though, Snape began speaking again.  He spoke in a raspy, strangled tone, as if he were visibly struggling not to strangle any of them.  "Potter, I have had about as much of you as I am going to take.  You are nothing more than an irritable little _brat, _who seems to think that you've actually done something to earn yourself the right to be above the rules.  Well, let me tell you something, _little boy."  _Harry felt as if he were going to explode with anger.  "Just because the rest of this world thinks you're some sort of hero doesn't mean that you are.  I know what you really are, and I know what your father really was.  There was nothing wonderful, heroic, or noble about him, either."  He took a step closer and lowered his voice considerably.  "Perhaps, no one has ever told you the _true _story of what your father was.  Maybe no one has ever told you that the _only _reason that a marriage ever occurred between your precious parents."  Harry told himself not to listen, that Snape was a liar, but he couldn't stop himself.  "There was never going to be any Lily _Potter, _I assure you; your wonderful father had absolutely no intention of marrying anyone outside of Pureblood status.  However, certain _incidents _occurred, certain, how was it put... _accidents, _and they had no choice."  He looked very pointedly at Harry.  "Do you follow what I'm saying, Potter?"  Harry knew he shouldn't be listening to Snape, let alone believing a single word that left his greasy lips, but there was a part of him that couldn't help but continue listening.  "The _accident, _as it was so eloquently named, happens to be standing right in front of me."

Harry's eyes flitted to the wall, and he stared at it, trying desperately to remain standing; his knees felt as if they were going to give in at any moment.  His breathing was short, but he paid it no attention.  Suddenly, he understood what the term 'blinded by rage' meant; his vision was clouding up far worse than it ever had when he'd been without his glasses.  But it wasn't really rage at all; it was something far, far more dangerous.

And then Harry knew he couldn't stay there a second longer.

He forgot all about Hermione's vision, forgot that he was supposed to be finding Professor Lupin, forgot that he was probably in the worst trouble he'd ever been in.  And he just turned around and ran down the hallway, as far away from Snape and his stories as he could get.

He heard Ron and Hermione both call after him and even start to chase him, but he was far too quick of a runner and had too much of a head start for either of them to catch him.  He kept running and running until he stopped suddenly, realizing that he had no clue where he was.  He was in a part of the castle that he'd never seen before, or perhaps he had seen it before and was just too out of it to place it.  He opened the first door he saw and went inside.  It was an old maintenance closet, filled with brooms and mops and other cleaning supplies that looked as if they hadn't been used in years.  There was a very large array of cobwebs, and the dust was almost enough to choke on, but Harry didn't care.

He felt as if he would actually have _liked _to choke.

Realizing suddenly that all of the running had left him completely out of breath, he slumped to the floor and struggled to ease his breathing back to normal.  It took him a good three minutes to finally get enough oxygen to his brain for it to function.

And then all of Snape's words came flying back at him like two extremely pissed off Bludgers.    
  
An _accident._

That's what he'd been to his parents?  A fucking accident?!  Harry felt sick and angry and completely overwhelmed.  He didn't know whether to believe Snape or not; obviously, Snape didn't care too much for Harry, and he would probably do whatever was in his power to make him miserable.  But he had been around then.  And it was no secret that Harry knew nothing about his parents except for what others had told him.  And anyone who had ever told him anything about his parents had been their friend and probably wouldn't speak so lowly of them.

  
Even if it was the truth.

Harry wished suddenly that he could find out the date of his parents' anniversary, just to know.  It just wasn't fair!  He knew nothing!  _Nothing!  _And he had no real way of finding out.

He could just imagine that conversation.

"_Professor Lupin, would you mind telling me if my mother got pregnant and _forced _my father to marry her?  Was my father really against marrying anyone who wasn't Pureblood?  Was I really just a bad accident that eventually caused them both to die?"_

Yeah, right.

And asking Sirius was even more of a ludicrous idea.  He had absolutely no one.    
  
And who was he supposed to believe anyway?  Maybe Snape disliked him enough to actually tell him the _truth.  _But it was Snape.  And Snape was an asshole.

But what if he was an honest asshole?

Harry could feel the tugging before he realized what it was.  His eyes were watering, and his throat felt even tighter than it had a few minutes before when he'd been so out of breath.  He was going to cry.

He was fucking going to cry!

Over Snape!

He tried to distract himself by thinking of the last time he had let himself cry.  He'd been nine years old, two full years before he'd even begun at Hogwarts.  His aunt had called him a worthless piece of trash, who wouldn't end up any better than his lowlife parents had.  Then she'd locked him in the cupboard and left him there for hours.  Harry had cried, not because he was being punished for a reason he didn't even know, but because his only known living relative had called his parents worthless lowlifes.  And he had just known that it wasn't true; his parents couldn't be worthless lowlifes.  They had loved him.  He knew it.

But what if they never even wanted him?

Harry grabbed furiously at the glasses on his face and ripped them away, flinging them against the far wall, surprised that they didn't break immediately.  With his vision even more blurry, he rubbed relentlessly at his eyes, willing himself not to do this.  He couldn't cry over something Snape had said.  He _wouldn't._

But then something terrible happened.

A feeling of intense resent overcame him, and he realized something that he'd been keeping hidden for years and years.  He was angry with his parents for abandoning him.

It was an unforgivable sin.

Parents who loved their children didn't just go and get themselves killed!  They raised their children, nurtured them, tucked them in at night, held them when they were scared, sang to them when they couldn't sleep, visited their classrooms and had conferences with their teachers, praised them when they were good, laughed when they were being humorous, and wiped their tears away when they cried.

But Harry was crying, for the first time in almost seven years, and there was no one to wipe his tears away.

Maybe his parents hadn't loved him at all.  If they hadn't wanted him, it would certainly explain why they didn't care enough to stick around and watch him grow up.  And if their death was to be inevitable, they should have at least had the decency to take him with them.  Instead of leaving him to be raised by the worst possible guardians imaginable.

But they hadn't had that sort of decency; they'd died, and Harry had been forced to endure years of abuse, both physical and mental, because they hadn't cared enough to take him with them.

And then Harry was sobbing, just like that, without even realizing.  He felt as if there were literally _years _of pent-up emotion escaping his body.  He was crying in such a way that his head began to ache, and his stomach began to hurt.  The tears were so rough and so violent that he wasn't sure he would ever be able to stop.

And so he just cried.

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"What are we going to do?"  Ron asked irritably as he shrugged out of Hermione's hold on him.  After Harry had run away, Hermione had smartly recognized the look on Ron's face, and, mostly out of fear for Ron's future at Hogwarts but just a tiny bit out of fear for Snape's life, she had grabbed his arm and yanked him down the hallway, being careful not to even look at Snape because she wasn't quite sure that she trusted herself not to try out 'Avada Kedavra' on him.

"What are we going to do about what?" she asked, glancing behind them, thankful that they were now a good distance away from Snape.  "About finding Professor Lupin or about finding Harry?"

"About both!"  Ron kicked at the wall as they continued to walk.  "I'm going to tell Professor Dumbledore what that bastard just said!"

"Ron, what good is that going to do?"  Hermione actually agreed, but she was trying to keep reason.

"What good will it do?"  Ron threw his head backwards in the direction from which they'd just come.  "Maybe that jackass won't have a job anymore!"

"You know that's not going to happen."

"Well, it should!" Ron was outraged, and Hermione was surprised that people weren't popping out from all over to see what the noise was.  "He shouldn't be able to speak to people like that!  He's supposed to be a teacher!"

"Well, what are we going to do?" 

"We need to tell someone about your dream," Ron said, calming his voice long enough to be at least partly rational.  "But we need to find Harry, too.  I don't trust him when he gets upset like that."

Hermione shook her head.  "Me, either."  

"Why would Snape do that?" Ron asked, completely dumbfounded.  "Does he really hate Harry that much?"

"I think he really hates Harry's _father _that much," she answered quietly.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence and then Ron glanced over at Hermione and posed another question.  "Do you think he was telling the truth?  You know, about Harry's parents?"

Hermione stared very hard at the floor.  She didn't know what to say, so she just shrugged.  

Ron also stayed quiet for a little bit, but he finally broke the silence.  "Do you think it really matters if he was telling the truth?  You know, if that really _was _the reason they got married?"

Hermione shrugged again and still didn't look up.  "I don't know his parents.  I've never met his parents.  I _will _never meet his parents."  She kicked at a tiny piece of parchment, which was littering the hallway.  "But I do know that Snape would like nothing more than to hurt Harry _and _his father, even if he never got to do it while they were in school."

"Yeah, but can you imagine hearing that?" Ron asked seriously.  "What if you suddenly found out that the only reason your parents got married is because they got pregnant?"

Hermione didn't want to think about that.  And anyway, that would never happen because she knew for a fact that her parents had been married for three years before she was born.  "We don't know that's the truth," she said, finally looking up at him.  "Snape's probably lying."

Ron glanced away and then nodded, though it looked rather forced.  "Yeah.  Probably."

"What?  You really think Snape would know something like that even if it _was_ true?  It's not like they were all best friends or anything."

"Hermione, you know how gossip is around here," he said pointedly.  "I'm sure it wasn't that different back then.  People talk."

"Well, who cares if it is the truth?" she asked, finally bewildered.  "It's not like they were the first people in the world to get married because of something like that!  It happens all the time."

"I know it does.  But Harry's always imagined them to be the perfect people."  He frowned.  "And it probably scares him that they might not be what he thought they were."

Ron never ceased to amaze her.  She had no clue where he got all this inner psychology talk from, but she knew that he was right.  Harry wasn't all that stable mentally, and he hadn't been for a long time.  She hated to say that, but it was the truth.  Everything around him was slowly starting to crumble, and she knew from past experience that when that started to happen, Harry would start to cut himself off from everyone else.  She realized that he was very prone to depression, and it frightened her that he might be headed right back down that same path.

She looked at Ron and sighed, speaking very softly.  "I don't know what to do."

Ron just stared at her before reaching for her hand and holding it in his own, pulling both of them to a stop.  "We still need to tell someone about your dream.  If we can't find Lupin, then we'll go to Dumbledore.  Or McGonagall."  He gave her an encouraging smile.  "And then I'll take care of Harry."

Hermione wanted to protest and say that she would help, but she knew this was the right thing.  Harry and Ron had their own secret understanding that bonded them to each other.  If anyone was going to be able to help Harry, it was going to be Ron.

Leaning up, she kissed him quickly.  "Okay," she whispered, lowering herself back to flat foot.    
  


And it was at that moment that she wondered if she was actually falling in love with Ron Weasley.  

It amazed her that he could still be loyal enough to his friends to think of them even when there was earth-shattering news about his missing brother.  He was so caring, so thoughtful.  She wondered how in the world she'd ever been blind to those things.

Maybe it really was love.  Maybe she was actually falling in love.  At fifteen, no less.  But it was possible, right?  

She stared into the most beautiful blue eyes she could ever recall, and a shock went through her.  It was terrifying.

But it was amazing.

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I know this one is shorter than the other ones, but that's okay.  More than one pivotal moment in this story occurred in this chapter, so the length isn't really the main focus.  
  
As always, I love feedback!!!


	64. Snooping for Secrets

A/N:  So glad you guys are enjoying this!  Thanks!!!

  
Disclaimer:  None of these characters are mine.

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Three days later, Professor Lupin still hadn't returned to class.  Unfortunately for all of the Gryffindors, Snape had taken over the lessons again temporarily, as he had done briefly during their third year.  Of course, with Snape teaching the class, Ron and Harry had both chosen to skive off, much to Hermione's scolding.  

"You can't let him distract you from your learning," she'd said smartly while they were walking out of the Great Hall after lunch.  The seventh year Gryffindors had just gotten out of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Fred had told him that Snape was still the teacher.  And since they were scheduled for that class immediately following lunch, Ron and Harry had informed Hermione that they weren't going.

"Distract us from our learning?" Ron asked carefully.  "How is it possible that he _won't _when he's the one teaching the class?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.  "It doesn't matter.  The O.W.L.s are coming up soon, and we need all of the practice we can get.  It doesn't matter who's teaching the class."

"Yes, it does," Harry intervened.  "It's bad enough that we have to sit through Potions, I'm definitely not taking Snape twice in one day."

"Fine," she said hotly.  "But don't expect me to lie for you."

Ron and Harry rolled their own eyes in perfect unison. 

Hermione had given a very loud sigh and stalked off in the direction of the Defense classroom without her best friends.

Approximately fifteen minutes after the class was scheduled to start, Ron and Harry were hiding in their dormitory, playing a game of Snap on Harry's bed.  They weren't particularly paying any attention to the game; they were mostly just throwing random cards into the pile mindlessly.  Every now and then, a minor explosion would occur, but nothing too spectacular was happening, so it wasn't very attention-worthy.

"The full moon was four nights ago," Ron observed carelessly.  "He should be better by now."

They'd long since come to the assumption that Lupin was out because of his "condition," but Ron was right, it had been a full four nights before.  Harry shrugged.  "Maybe Snape botched his potion on purpose."

"Maybe," Ron agreed, throwing a particularly dangerous card into the pile.  "How much trouble do you think we'll get in for skipping?"

Harry shrugged again.  "Who cares?"

"My mum'll kill me if she gets an owl," he said almost wistfully.  "Do you think Snape'll tell Dumbledore?"

"Probably."

"Yeah," Ron went on, tossing a few more cards into the center.  "And Lupin will probably be really pissed, too."  
  
Once again, Harry just shrugged.  "So?  I don't care if he is."

Ron stopped momentarily and just looked at the other boy.  Harry was staring at the cards in his hand, but it was obvious that he really wasn't looking at anything.  Ron frowned slightly and looked at his own cards, anything to distract him from the moping miserable person that was his best friend. 

Ever since Snape had said those awful things about his parents, Harry had been completely cynical about any and everything.  Ron hadn't been able to find Harry at all that night, and it wasn't until the next morning at breakfast that he first saw him again.  Harry had looked tired and disoriented, as if he hadn't slept all night.  It had been obvious that he didn't want to answer any questions, so Ron hadn't asked him any.  Surprisingly enough, Hermione hadn't, either; Ron was thankful for this since he knew better than anyone that Hermione had a tendency to be a bit pushy when she wanted to get some information.  Ron, though, assumed that Harry would talk about it when he wanted to, and until then, it was probably better just to pretend as if nothing had happened.  

While Harry was missing that day, Ron and Hermione had sought out Professor McGonagall and told her all about Hermione's vision.  She had watched them silently, nodding here and there to show her understanding.  After the story had been told, she'd simply nodded once more and said, "Mr. Weasley, I suggest that you write home to your parents and let them know the situation.  If Miss Granger's vision is correct, it is very likely that there will be something of importance occurring at your home, and it is only fair to let your parents know in advance.  As far as what we will do here, I will alert the Headmaster and tell him the details of the vision.  In the meantime, though, I suggest that the two of you try your best to behave as normally as possible.  I would also like to request that you do not let anyone else in on what you Saw; this does include your other siblings, Mr. Weasley."  And that had been it.  Ron had done as he was told and written home to his mum and dad.  They hadn't yet sent a reply, but Ron knew it took at least a day's travel each way, so he wasn't really expecting anything back this quickly.  

The boys continued to play in silence until a very sharp knock on their door jerked both of them to instant attention.  They glanced at each other nervously, and Harry got up and immediately threw open his trunk, grabbing the Invisibility Cloak and throwing it over both Ron and himself.  They crouched into the small opening between their beds and sat wordlessly for several more seconds before another loud knock sounded.  When no response was given, the knocker obviously decided it was safe to enter, and the door flew open.  At first, Ron wondered if a ghost had been pounding on the door, as no one was visible.  A second later, though, a head appeared, a very familiar head.  And a moment after that, an Invisibility Cloak was peeled off, revealing the last person either Ron or Harry wanted to see in the dormitory.  

Draco Malfoy stepped away from the dropped Cloak and looked around the circular room, his signature smirk right in place on his pale face.

Ron and Harry looked at each other with identical looks of shock.  Then Ron made a move to get up and beat the living shit out of the Slytherin, but Harry grabbed his arm and shook his head frantically, halting him in mid-stand.  Reluctantly, Ron settled back to his knees and watched as Malfoy stopped glancing around and set his eyes on Harry's bed.

It was obvious that it was Harry's bed because of the slightly beaten up Firebolt standing beside the nightstand.  Malfoy walked over to the four poster and took in the open curtains and half-played game of Snap lying on the bed.  His eyes then fell on the still-open trunk, which Harry had thrown open moments before, and a look of panic flickered just briefly across his face.  He glanced all around him before obviously deciding that no one was in the room.  With that, he crept closer and dropped to his knees just inches away from where Harry himself sat, hidden by the Invisibility Cloak.

With a look of pure glee, he started rummaging through the open trunk, pulling out various items, socks, school shirts, schoolbooks, extra quills.  Both of the Gryffindors held their breath when he pulled out the Marauder's Map, but he didn't give it a second glance, obviously assuming that it was nothing more than a spare piece of parchment.    
  


"Damn," Malfoy muttered to himself as he gave up on the trunk and halfway threw the things back into the trunk, paying no attention to the order or anything of the such.  He stood up and pulled open the drawers on the nightstand, looking through them but obviously not finding whatever he was looking for.  His eyes fell momentarily on the Firebolt, and a look of pure menace took him over.  He fingered the broomstick, and Harry almost thought he was going to break it just to be spiteful; it was obvious that the idea was also occurring to Malfoy.  However, he finally left it alone and once again looked around the room.

He went in the opposite direction of where the boys were sitting, glancing at trunks and naming off the occupants of the beds.  "Finnigan...  Thomas...  Longbottom..."  He stopped after making a circle and glanced at the final trunk, a creepy smile on his face.  "Weasley."

Ron watched with a hard glare as Malfoy went through the same drill on his things as he had on Harry's.  He pulled the trunk out from under the bed and popped the latch, digging through layers of clothes and supplies.  When he didn't find anything, he didn't even bother putting the things back.  He just swore under his breath and jerked open the nightstand drawer.  Immediately, though, his swearing stopped, and a gleeful look covered his pointed face.  He grabbed an envelope from the top of the drawer, which contained a letter that Ron's mum had sent the week before.  He turned it over and scanned the back of the envelope for something before grinning once more and tucking the letter into his pocket.  Ron was confused at first; there was nothing written on the back of the envelope other than the return address.

The address of his home...

Ron looked instantly at Harry, who looked just as dumbstruck as Ron felt.  They watched in silence as Malfoy gathered up his Invisibility Cloak and exited the room, not bothering to put it back into proper order.  Without even questioning each other, the other two boys got up under their own Invisibility Cloak and followed him.  He went down the stairs, but instead of entering the Common Room, he turned up another set of stairs, the set which led to the girls' side of Gryffindor Tower.  He stopped on the floor outside of the door marked Fifth Years, and he once again knocked loudly.  Ron and Harry watched from behind, realizing that he was knocking for the sole purpose of seeing if anyone happened to be inside.  If they were in the room, by chance, he would obviously just stay hidden.  No one answered the door, though, as all the rest of the Gryffindors were in class.  Without bothering to knock a second time, Malfoy turned the knob and entered the room, Ron and Harry skulking closely behind him.  

There were only three beds in this room, and it wasn't difficult to distinguish whose was whose.  One bed was covered by an intricately stitched and beaded blanket, obviously of authentic Indian make and very obviously Parvati's; the next bed was piled with various stuffed animals, and it was no secret that Lavender was still quite attached the girlish things of her childhood; and the last bed was just as distinguishable as the others, a stack of books standing in front of it and a rather large book left wide open on top of the bed.

It was the last bed that Malfoy went to, dropping his Invisibility Cloak on the way and looking as if he'd just won the lottery.

"Granger, Granger, Granger..." he mumbled under his breath.  "What do you have hidden in here?"

If looks could kill, Malfoy would have been dead from the death glare Ron was shooting him by this time.  Without a outward care in the world, though, Malfoy dropped to his knees beside Hermione's bed and reached under for her trunk.  Hermione, who was very organized and precise, had all of her things packed away neatly inside of her trunk, but it didn't take long for Malfoy to completely destroy her system, flinging random clothing to the floor in what now looked like a furious mission to _find _something.  

When whatever he was looking for was obviously not in her trunk, he shoved it away and got to his feet, heading straight for her own nightstand.  

"Jackpot," he muttered, pulling out what was also obviously a letter.  "1114 Henley Avenue.  Suffolk, London."

Ron and Harry both stole panicked glances at each other before turning back to see what else the intruder was planning.  To their surprise, Malfoy tucked the letter into his pocket and went straight back to exploring her drawers.  "Wicked," he muttered, extracting a very familiar looking leather book.  It was the journal Ron had given her for Christmas that year.  "What dirty little secrets does Hogwarts' prized pupil have?"  

At this point, Ron made a serious move to pummel Malfoy, but once again, Harry held him back.  "Don't," he hissed quietly while shaking his head rapidly.

Malfoy opened the journal and frowned momentarily before smirking again.  "Bitchy little know-it-all probably thinks _she's _the only one who knows how to work a secrecy charm."  Ron clenched his fist in order to refrain from attacking Malfoy.  He watched as the other boy pulled out his wand and tapped the journal, muttering several unfamiliar Latin terms.  When nothing happened, Malfoy rolled his eyes and tossed the book back into the drawer.  "Girls always have diaries," he said mockingly.  "Should have known Granger wasn't enough of a real girl to actually write in one."

With that, he turned around, picked up his Invisibility Cloak, and marched out of the dormitory, down the stairs, and through the Portrait Hole, leaving Ron and Harry alone in the Common Room.

"I'm going to kill him!" Ron said venomously as he shrugged the Cloak away and glared at the now closed painting.

"What are we going to do?" Harry asked, a slight hint of worry evident in his tone.  

"First I'm going to beat the shit out of him, then I'm going to pull his fingernails out, and then I'm going to yank the balls off of him!  If the damn wanker has any!" Ron said, apparently much more furious that Malfoy had dared to intrude on Hermione's space than he was over the fact that Malfoy had also done the same to him and to Harry.

"I mean seriously," Harry said sternly.    
  


"I am being serious!"

"Ron, shut up," Harry said briskly.  "Now, do you think we should tell someone?"

"Of course we should!  Malfoy broke into our rooms, went through our things, and even _stole _some of our personal property!"

"But maybe we should just keep quiet."

"What?"  Ron was positive that Harry had lost his mind.  "Then the bastard will just get away with it!"

"Yeah, but if we tell, we probably won't be allowed to leave for Easter."

"Why shouldn't we be allowed to go home for Easter?"

"Ron, Malfoy was looking for _addresses, _which probably means his dad told him to find out where we all lived."    
  
Ron wasn't stupid; he knew exactly why Lucius Malfoy would want to know where they all resided, and it wasn't so that he could join their families for tea.  But still...

"Don't you think it's more dangerous _not _to tell?" Ron asked cautiously.  
  
Harry scowled slightly.  "Look.  If they want to do something, they're going to do it.  Whether we're there or not.  You want to see Hope, don't you?"

"Of course I do, but-"

"Well, you won't get to if we tell anyone."

Ron, being the non-stupid person that he was, understood perfectly.  Harry couldn't wait to see Gia, and he apparently didn't care how dangerous or risky it would be.  He was obviously willing to take whatever chances he had to in order to see her.  Even if it was pretty thick.

"Are we at least going to tell Hermione?" Ron asked, giving into Harry without verbally conceding.

But Harry just shook his head.  "If we tell her, she's going to tell a teacher.  You know she will."

"Well, she _is _the smart one..." Ron pointed out.

Harry rolled his eyes.  "Just don't, okay?  We can keep an eye on Malfoy and make sure he doesn't look like he's up to anything particularly rotten."  
  


"How can we keep an eye on him when he's got an Invisibility Cloak?" Ron asked pointedly.  "And anyway, I wonder how long he's had that thing."

Harry shrugged.  "I dunno.  But I'm sure he's not stupid enough to go disappearing under it all the time."

This was true.  Malfoy probably had a whole entourage of people watching his every move, so it wasn't very likely that he would go prancing around in an Invisibility Cloak very often.  

"Fine," Ron said, exasperated.  "But I _am _writing home and telling Mum and Dad to be careful.  And I'm going to tell Hermione to write to her parents, too."

Harry looked just the tiniest bit spiteful.  "I would write to the Dursleys," he said sarcastically, "but they might find out where the Death Eaters meet and join them, just to make sure I don't have to bother them this summer."

Ron looked quickly to the wall.  He hated when Harry got like that, mostly because he didn't know how to handle him.  It wasn't as if he could say _'I understand' _and be telling the truth because he didn't understand.  He still had both of his parents; he wasn't an orphan who was being raised by monsters; and he wasn't the Boy Who Lived, a fifteen year old who was expected to save the world.

As jealous as he sometimes got of Harry, he really didn't envy him at all.

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Another short chapter, but it's out there fast!  I'm trying to go as quickly as possible because my original intention was to finish this before _Order of the Phoenix _came out, but I don't know if it's going to happen.  I will try, though.  I will try my hardest.  
  
Please review!!!


	65. A Trip Home

A/N:  Thanks so much for all the reviews!!!  
  
Disclaimer: I still haven't gotten my hands on them...

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Ron Weasley woke up feeling relaxed and completely at home.

His bedroom at the Burrow still looked almost exactly the same as it had during the years he'd spent in it before leaving for Hogwarts.  The walls were still covered with bright orange posters of the Chudley Cannons, and his bed was still covered with an equally bright blanket.  The one main difference between all those pre-Hogwarts years and now was the addition of the camp bed, which had pretty much been a permanent fixture in his room over the past few years.  The other semi-permanent fixture happened to be his best friend, who was sleeping heavily on the camp.

Ron glanced at his bedside watch and saw that it was already after ten in the morning.  He was surprised that his mother hadn't burst into the room yelling at them both to wake up yet, but he supposed that she was probably allowing them a lie-in since it was just the first day of Easter holiday.  It was funny how mothers always seemed to know when their children needed rest and when they were just being lazy.

Being careful not to wake Harry, Ron slipped out of bed and made his way through the crowded room to the hallway.  Being on the top level of a four story house, it wasn't too easy to distinguish smells that were wafting up from the kitchen.  However, he was able to tell that _something _was cooking, and as his stomach grumbled noisily, _anything _sounded amazing.  

When he arrived at the kitchen, though, it wasn't the smell of fried bacon that made him smile; it was the sight of Hermione sitting at his kitchen table gently bouncing his baby sister in her arms.

Hope was almost two months old already, but she still looked as tiny as the day she'd been born.  Hermione was sitting with her legs tucked under her with the infant in her arms; the two girls were grinning at each other as Hermione lightly tickled the baby's stomach.    
  


"Good to see another bit of life in this house."  Ron looked up to see his mother standing by the stove.  She looked very much awake and was cooking what looked like a feast for England's entire infantry.  She scraped some eggs onto his plate and handed it to him.  "Three down, four more to go."

Ron was confused for just a second before he realized what his mother was talking about.  She had successfully nourished three of the seven children in the house that morning, but the twins, Harry, and Ginny were still nowhere to be seen.  

Ron sat down at the table across from Hermione.  She smiled over at him, and he felt the familiar need to kiss her.  He didn't, of course, because his mum was standing only about a meter away, and that would be embarrassing.  But the urge was there.

  
It was _always _there.

He sent her a quick smile in response and turned his attention to his plate, trying to take his mind off of all the feelings that always seemed to course through his veins whenever he was within viewing distance of Hermione.  He couldn't help it; it wasn't like he _wanted _to feel all tingly and excited whenever she was close by, but the feelings always seemed to be there.  Maybe he was just a hormone-driven sixteen year old.

Or maybe she was just too beautiful.

It was more likely the second option, though those hormones were nasty little buggers that did pretty well at annoying the hell out of him.  But then again, he really did think Hermione was beautiful.  He was pretty sure he'd always thought that, way deep down inside of him; growing up, even when they'd been fighting, Ron had always been mesmerized by her eyes and the way the color was a perfect match to her hair.  Of course, at thirteen years old, he would just as soon have voluntarily turned himself over to Snape for experimenting as he would have told Hermione Granger that he thought her eyes were beautiful.  But the best thing about being sixteen instead of thirteen was that now he could tell her whatever he wanted to.

And she would appreciate it.

As he ate his breakfast in silence, he kept sneaking glances up across the table.  Hermione was still busy bouncing Hope, but he managed to get in several pretty good glances before his mother walked behind him and ruffled his hair, sending him a very knowing look hidden behind a warm smile.  Ron immediately turned pink and stared down at his plate, mortified that his mum had caught him staring like that.

  
But once again, he couldn't _help _it.

He wished there was some way he could do nothing _but _stare at her.  All the time.  He would have been happy.  She had a million different looks, and he wanted to memorize all of them and store them away in his mind separately.  At that moment, she looked very much like a little girl playing with a baby doll.  Her hair was down but pulled up partly on each side and secured with two clips; the surprisingly warm late April weather had allowed her to wear a pair of denim capris and a solid white tank top.  Her feet were bare, and they jangled to a rhythmless beat as they hung from the side of the chair where she had her legs tucked underneath her.  As always, she was naturally tanned, but the early spring date had not given her enough time to be so brown that her freckles no longer showed on the bridge of her nose and slope of her shoulders.  

"Mmm, what's for breakfast?"  Ginny appeared in the kitchen looking the exact opposite of Hermione.  She was still dressed in the shorts and long outgrown t-shirt that she'd worn to bed, and her hair, instead of already being styled for the day like Hermione's, was tied into a high ponytail and hung down her back.  Her eyes were still red from her awakening, but she seemed to brighten a bit when she spotted Hope.  "Hi, Sissy," she said in, what Ron considered, a terribly annoying baby-voice; her fingers reached out and tickled Hope for a moment before she leaned down and rubbed their noses together.  

"She's not a kitten," Ron said dully, looking over at his sister with a look of annoyance.

Ginny looked back at him, pursed her lips for a moment, and then made an incredibly rude gesture, which caused Ron to snort with laughter and Hermione to stare in shock.

"Virginia Charlotte!"  Apparently Ginny had forgotten that they were no longer at school, safely away from their parental figures.  She looked at her mum sheepishly, knowing already that she was in trouble but at least hoping that she could talk her way out of it.

"Sorry, Mum," she said quickly. 

She was saved perhaps by the appearance of yet another face at the breakfast table.  Harry had apparently woken up and was now looking very bright and very cheerful, a look he hadn't worn in over a month.   He slid into a chair beside Hermione, reaching over to gently rub a finger over Hope's nose before reaching onto Hermione's plate and stealing her half-eaten slice of toast.

She looked over at him rather crossly before reaching over and taking the toast off the plate Mrs. Weasley had just set in front of him.  She bit into it and then placed it back on his plate.  He just shrugged and ate the rest of it before addressing her as Mrs. Weasley went about chewing Ginny out.  "Have you talked to your parents?"

So, _that's _what the smile was all about...  
  
Gia.

Ron watched Harry and Hermione talk and rolled his eyes just slightly to himself.  Lately, everything was about Gia.  Harry was apparently willing to risk his own life to see her, and it had recently occurred to Ron that it wasn't just Harry's life being threatened.  Ron's own safety was at stake, not to mention that of his family, and Hermione was probably in more danger than any of them, her parents being Muggles and all.  But maybe Harry was too caught up in his own hormones to realize any of that.

  
It was selfish, really.  
  
And stupid.

He wasn't going to say anything, though; it wouldn't do any good at all to have Harry being all pouty and huffy.  He'd been that way a lot lately, and it was getting rather annoying.  Yes, of course Ron felt bad for Harry; he had more on his mind than any fifteen year old should ever be forced to deal with.  But it wasn't fair of him to ask his friends to put themselves into unnecessary perilous situations.  But if they really wanted to talk about fair, Ron reckoned that Harry had gotten the least bit of fairness of anyone in the world.  Easy living was just not something that was written in the stars for Harry Potter, and since Ron had chosen to be the best friend of the person who was, in many cases, considered to be the savior of the wizarding world, he had been forced to give up his own chance at easy living.  

But he was that best friend.  Harry had been his first friend when they were wide-eyed eleven year olds, exploring a magical castle in hopes of adventure.  He'd been his most reliable friend when Ron's younger sister had virtually been kidnapped and taken into the Chamber of Secrets.  He'd been his most loyal friend when Ron spent the majority of his third year fighting with their other best friend over something silly and childish.  And last year, he'd proven to be more than a friend when it was revealed that Ron was the thing Harry would miss most.

But now, somewhere deep in the back of his mind, Ron wondered if that would still be the same case now.  He wasn't _jealous _of Gia, really; he was just a little upset that she had suddenly taken so much precedence over himself and Hermione.  They'd known Harry for five years, had stuck with him through everything and put themselves into the line of danger plenty of times.  He'd only known Gia for a few months, and already she was turning out to be the most important thing.

It was just an odd feeling.    
  
Ron had never felt as if he were the best at anything.  In a family of five older brothers, it was difficult to stand out in anything particular.  And in school, he'd somehow managed to make the Boy Who Lived and the Girl Who Knew Everything as best friends.  So, it wasn't like it was an entirely new feeling.  It was just weird to be second best in Harry's eyes all of a sudden.

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The Martin's house was nearly as large as the Grangers, but it lacked the elegance and grace of the one owned by the dentists.  The Martin's home looked as if it had once been lived in but now basically stood just to give off an appearance.  If you looked very closely at the backyard, you could still see the family barbecues and picnics of years before.  Of course, they were gone now; years and years had turned the once lively house into a place that spoke of the emptiness inside.

Harry stared at the house in front of him, barely able to believe that Easter holiday had finally arrived.  He'd been waiting to see Gia again for months now, and it was driving him mad.  And now that the time was here, he was suddenly nervous.

He'd traveled with Ron and Hermione by Floo Powder to the Grangers a few hours after the late breakfast they'd had at the Weasleys.  Hermione's parents were in the city and weren't due back until late that night, but it hadn't been too hard to convince both Ron and Hermione that heading over to Suffolk was a good idea.  He'd left them just a few minutes before and was pretty sure that they had probably already made it up the stairs to Hermione's bedroom to do God only knows what.  Not that he wanted to know, of course; no, he was perfectly happy thinking that they were doing nothing more scandalous than watching a bit of television.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked on the door in front of him.  His heart was pounding in his chest, but it slowed immediately when the door opened and he was met with the one person he wanted to see more than any other right then.  

Gia squealed in delight and instantly launched herself at Harry, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck and squeezing him until he could barely breathe.  But he didn't mind a bit.

In fact, it was the most comforting feeling in the world.

A few moments later, Gia pulled back and turned around to glance behind her; then she grabbed his hand and yanked him into the foyer without saying a word, only holding a single finger to her lips in the silence symbol.

"Who's at the door?"  A woman's voice drifted from somewhere at the back of the house, and Harry realized that it must be Anne, Gia's step-mother.

"No one," Gia called back, shoving Harry up the front stairs.  "Just someone selling encyclopedias!"

"Bloody solicitors!" was the last grumbled reply Harry heard before Gia was literally pushing him up the steps.

"Go!" she hissed.  "I'm in trouble, and you're not supposed to be here!"

Harry turned back around to glance questioningly at her, but Gia just shook her head rapidly, her eyes giving away the fact that he wasn't supposed to say a word.  When they finally made it up the stairs, Gia grabbed his hand and yanked him into her bedroom.  As soon as she had shut and locked the door, she grabbed him by the neck and kissed him.

Harry felt all the blood in his body rushing through his veins almost immediately.  He had nearly forgotten what an amazing sensation it was to kiss this girl, but he remembered quite quickly.  

"Why are you in trouble?" he asked when they finally pulled apart.

  
Gia grimaced and shrugged nonchalantly.  "I skipped school the other day, and I got caught.  No big deal, but my dad's pissed.  He's not even here, so who cares?"

Harry grinned at the blasé attitude Gia had toward being in trouble.  "Where is he?"

She shrugged again.  "I don't know.  Paris... Venice... Berlin...  I don't know, somewhere.  I don't really care at the moment."

And with that, she kissed him again, this time slower and more deliberately.

It made him dizzy.

And then, as if by some odd sort of magic not taught at Hogwarts, his mind went completely void of all the bad things it was so used to being plagued with.  He forgot that his best friend was having odd visions about interrogations.  He forgot that his worst enemy had gone snooping through his things just weeks before.  He forgot that there was a war brewing outside and that he was the center of it.  He forgot that his least favorite teacher had recently informed him that he was nothing more than an accident, which had been at least convenient enough to get his mother into a family of wealth.  He forgot that his favorite teacher had finally returned to teaching after a week's leave, looking sicker and graver than was even imaginable.  He forgot that there were hundreds of people who wanted nothing more than to be the one to turn his body over to an evil dark lord set on taking revenge for thirteen years of exile.  

He forgot all of it.

Harry wouldn't later recall all of the details to the next thirty minutes.  They blurred by in what seemed like only seconds.  They ended up on her bed somehow, and she definitely wasn't being shy about anything.  Harry found his hands wandering to places that he hadn't gotten the chance to explore during Christmas break, but Gia seemed only too eager to share then.  And after four months of dreaming and fantasizing, Harry was far too eager to ignore her open invitation.  Over Christmas, they'd kept everything above clothing for the most part, but that just didn't seem enough now, and Harry was eternally grateful that she didn't protest when his hand slid under her shirt.  In fact, she was making quiet little noises that somehow told him that protesting was the furthest thing from her mind.

"Gianna Nicole!"  A loud knocking jerked both teenagers to alertness immediately.    
  
Gia leaned up slightly on her elbows, looking extremely cross and flushed as Harry tried to think up the proper hexing for someone who would dare to interrupt something like this.  "What?" she called, obviously annoyed.

"What are you doing?" demanded Anne's voice from the other side of the wood.  "Open this door."

"Shit!" Gia cursed softly.  "Fuck!"  She looked frantically around her room before shoving Harry up and in the direction of her closet.  "Hide!" she hissed before jumping out of the bed herself and pulling her shirt straight.

Harry, who didn't particularly fancy getting caught in a girl's bedroom by her parents, did as he was told and hurried to the closet.  It was on the other side of the room, facing the door that Gia was headed to.  He could see her struggling to look presentable as he peered through the slanted wooden panels of the closed door.  He watched the unraveling scene as he struggled to regain control of his body and his senses.

"What?" Gia asked again, even more annoyed as she opened the door to her step-mother.  

Anne was an attractive woman, obviously too young to be Gia's real mother, with waist length raven hair and dark brown eyes, the exact opposite of Gia's blonde and sea-green combination.  It was almost amusing to see the way she and Gia stared at each other with equal amounts of contempt.

"What have you been doing?" she asked haughtily.  "I've been calling you for half an age, and you've just been ignoring me."

Gia rolled her eyes.  "I've been doing homework," she lied smoothly.  "And I didn't hear you because I had a headset on."

Anne pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes.  "Your father called and said he's staying in Munich for an extra week."

Gia shrugged.  "So?"

The older woman huffed up just a bit.  "Well, I certainly hope you have a way to school when classes start back next week because I'm not going to wake up and take you."

"How surprising," Gia said dryly.  

"And you better not skip again, young lady," she went on sharply.  "Because you won't get off so easily next time, let me assure you of that."

Gia looked away with a bored look on her face.  "Whatever," she said blankly.  "Is that all you wanted?"

"I'm going to meet a client for drinks, so I don't know when I'll be back."  She pointed a perfectly manicured nail at her husband's daughter.  "And don't even _think _about going anywhere or having anyone over."

Gia sighed loudly and then put on an obviously very false and overdone smile.  "Yes, ma'am," she said sweetly.

Anne glared at the younger girl before pulling a rather disgusted face and flipping the fingertips of one hand through Gia's curls.  "And do something about your hair.  You look positively awful."

Gia's fake smile faded and she returned the glare for a long moment before rolling her eyes and shutting the door on her step-mother.  She twisted the lock and turned back around, flopping back against the wood of the door and crossing her arms over her chest.  When Anne's footsteps faded away, Harry opened the closet door and stepped out.

"I hate her," Gia said simply, her face clouded with dislike.

Harry chewed on the inside of his lip.  "At least she's leaving," he said in an attempt to make the situation seem better.  

Gia rolled her eyes and walked to the window where a white sports car could be seen backing out of the driveway.  "Out to meet a _client _for drinks," she repeated snidely.  "What she _really_ means," she went on, turning away from the window to face Harry again, "is that she went off to fuck some other man behind my father's back."  She shrugged her shoulders effortlessly.  "Not that he has any room to talk, considering the fact that he's probably only staying in Munich for an extra week because he found someone even younger and more waiflike than Anne to share a hotel room with."

Harry looked at the pure and utter contempt on Gia's face and realized just how completely messed up her family was.  And then he laughed at how ironic it was.

Gia looked back up at him, a flash of hurt covering her face briefly.  "What?" she asked, confused.

Harry shook his head, dismissing the notion that he might be making fun of her situation.  "I was just thinking about how we both got screwed up by our parents."  She eyed, clearly still confused, so he clarified.  "There's this teacher at my school, who went to school with my parents, and he hated my dad.  And now he hates me."  He rolled his eyes at the thought of Snape.  "Well, a few weeks ago, he basically informed me that my parents were never really in love, that my father was pretty much a racist, and that the only reason my mom and dad got married is because my mom got pregnant with me."

Gia's eyes widened slightly and her mouth dropped.  "Was he telling the truth?"

Harry shrugged, not feeling particularly emotional about the situation at that moment.  "Who knows?  I don't even remember my parents, so for all I know, it could very well be the truth."

Gia shook her head silently and then, as she caught Harry's eye, they both smiled smiles of disbelief, a true sign that they completely understood each other.  "We are so fucked up," Gia mumbled before glancing away and then back to Harry.

Then they both laughed.

The situation, though made up of an incredibly thick subject, confirmed just one thing.  They already knew more about each other than anyone else ever had.

*****************************************

"Are you sure your parents aren't coming home anytime soon?"  Ron glanced nervously around the upstairs clearing of the Granger home.

Hermione turned around and looked crossly at him.  "Not until after dinner.  What is your problem?"

"Oh, nothing," he said sarcastically.  "I'm perfectly okay with having your dad murder me."

Hermione rolled her eyes.  "He wouldn't murder you, Ron," she said matter-of-factly.  

"Right," Ron muttered unconvincingly.  "Just make sure you say a nice eulogy at my funeral, okay?"

Hermione giggled before hitting him playfully.  "Oh, shut up," she said briskly, taking his hand and pulling him with her into her childhood bedroom.  She pushed the door shut with her free hand and then grabbed his own free one.  "My parents aren't going to come back, okay?"

Ron stared at her, feeling a very familiar _hormonal _urge start to build within him.  Just the thought of being alone, really alone, with Hermione for the first time in months was enough to make him lose his bloody mind.  There were _so _many things he wanted to do, not even a percentage of which were proper, and he knew that she wouldn't let him do even a fourth of them.  But _still.  _

"My mum thinks they're here," he said quietly.  "She wouldn't have let us come if she'd known they weren't."

"Well, what your mother doesn't _know," _Hermione said slyly, "won't hurt her, now will it?"

Hermione, acting all coy and sly like that, was surely going to be the end of him.  Mesmerized by the way she was trying so hard to appear innocent, he couldn't do anything except shake his head and mumble, "No, I don't reckon it will..."

And that was the last time Ron concerned himself with his mother for the rest of the afternoon.

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I know, I know.  This whole chapter was sort of pointless to the plot, but I figured a semi-fluffy chapter was in order since the next few chapters will be a mix of complete and utter gooeyness and straight up angst.  If anything seemed rushed in this chapter, I'm sorry.  If anyone had trouble comprehending what was going on and why they were back at the Burrow and the Grangers, please let me know, and I'll try to fix it.    
  
As always, I love your reviews!!!!


	66. A Mother's Love

A/N:  Okay, for the very first time in this story (minus the Draco outtake), I am allowing another character other than Harry, Ron, or Hermione to take control of the view.  You will see what I mean later.  
  
WARNING:  This chapter does include angst and absolutely no fluffy, mushy-gushy stuff.    
  
And PS- Thanks for all the lovely reviews!

Disclaimer: Nope!

  
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Molly Weasley was everything Harry had ever imagined a mother to be.

  
She was worn with age but still full of spirit.  With children ranging from their mid-twenties all the way down to a newborn infant and everything in between, it was impossible for her to even think about slowing down.  She was the epitome of what a good mother should be.

Her eyes shone with years of bandaged cuts and kissed foreheads.  She always smelled like freshly baked pastries whether or not she'd spent any time at all in the kitchen that day.  She could scold like no one's business, but she always had a good reason when she was firm.  

Everything about her just oozed with motherliness.  

Harry, who had grown up without parents of his own, had always imagined his own mother to be exactly that type of woman.  When he'd been very small, he had often imagined what his life would have been like if his parents had never been killed; in his fantasies, he always imagined himself as the oldest in a long line of children, lots of brothers and sisters who would play with him and grow up with him.  And _none _of them would even remotely be like Dudley Dursley.

And then he met the Weasleys.

To the untrained eye, they were nothing more than a large family with more children than could reasonably be afforded.  _"All Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."  _Yes, that had been the first description he'd really heard of the redheaded family whose son sat in the same compartment with him on their first train ride to Hogwarts.

But then Harry got to know them.

It turned out that they were _much _more than what he'd originally observed.  They were, honestly, the closest to the perfect family that you could possibly get.  Sure, they had their fair share of problems, but with nine- well, ten now- members of the household, a few tiffs were perfectly acceptable.  

  
But they all _really _loved each other.

  
Like Ginny and Ron, for example.  They were, with the exception of Fred and George, the closest siblings chronologically, separated by not even an entire year.  Harry had heard each of them complain endlessly about the other, and they fought like cats and dogs most of the time when they were together.  But Harry had been there and seen the look on Ron's face during their second year when they overheard Professor McGonagall say that Ginny had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets.  And it was more than clear that they shared a whole lifetime of secrets that no one else, no matter how good of a friend, could even begin to compare wealth to.  They might not have liked each other for every second of the fifteen years they'd spent growing up together, but they had always _loved _each other.

And that was the beauty of Molly Weasley.

She had somehow managed to raise a whole line of children in one house, and shockingly, none of them hated each other.  And the weirdest part of all that was that each of the Weasley children was a world's different than the next.  She'd raised a Gringotts curse breaker, a dragon trainer, a ministry official, a dual set of pranksters, one-third of the trio who was expected to save the world, an incredibly brave young woman, and she was set to do it all over again with the newest addition to her household.  

It was truly amazing.

Harry couldn't imagine any other woman being able to do it.  Mrs. Weasley was, and would probably always be, the closest thing he'd ever have to a mother of his own.  She hadn't raised him or anything like that, but she'd given him more of a motherly love than anyone ever had before.

  
It was insane really how sometimes Harry was _so _jealous of Ron.  It wasn't like he ever meant to be jealous, but he couldn't help it.  Actually, the whole situation was totally crazy and ironic.  Ron wanted nothing more than to be known for something; he wanted desperately to just once be the center of attention.  He wanted money and individuality and fame and all the other things he'd grown up without.  _And Harry had every bit of that.  _But he would have given it up in a second flat if asked to; he would turn over every knut in his Gringotts vault just to have a fraction of the pure love, which Ron received so generously from a family who couldn't afford to give their children the material things they so desired.  Ron didn't know how lucky he was to have brothers and sisters who looked out for him and a mother and father who loved him unconditionally.  He didn't know, and would probably never know, how badly Harry had wished for just one day with his parents, just one scraped knee healed perfectly by a mother's kiss, just one afternoon spent in the company of a father, just one hug given just because, and just one bedtime story read while he was tucked away in bed.

  
But wishing had never done shit for Harry Potter.

He would never get any of those things, and he knew this.  But as a young child, he'd clung desperately to the idea of hope and faith and wishes made on the brightest stars.

One of his earliest memories occurred when he was only three years old.  He remembered standing behind the large China cabinet in the Dursley's living room and watching as his aunt read a book to Dudley.  Dudley had never been small, but at the age of three, he was still able to sit on his mother's lap comfortably.  Harry, who had learned at a very young age that being quiet was definitely beneficial, watched silently, listening to the story and grinning to himself when Aunt Petunia disguised her voice to match those of the various characters.  Before long, though, the story was over, and she was closing the book.

"Now, you run upstairs and change into your jam-jams," she said sweetly, running a hand over her son's blonde hair.  "And Mummy'll be right up to tuck you in."

  
Dudley had jumped down from the chair and raced for the stairs, never noticing Harry as he crouched behind the cabinet, completely hidden by the shadows of the doorway.  But when Dudley was safely upstairs, Harry had attempted the impossible.

"Aunt Petunia?" he asked quietly, stepping out of the shadows and a little closer to the chair where his aunt was still sitting.

"What is it?" she asked briskly, frowning at the sight of him.  "You're supposed to be in bed."

Harry knew perfectly well that he was supposed to be in bed, but, as he was feeling extremely brave, he still managed the impossible request.  "Well..." he stuttered slightly, growing more and more nervous of being in an adult's presence.  "I...  I was wondering if maybe..." he took a breath, "...if maybe you could tuck me in, too."

For a long, long moment, his aunt just stared at him.  Harry was almost positive that her lack of answer doubled as a no, but just as he started to turn around and retreat back to the hallway, a hand stopped him.  Aunt Petunia raised her hand just slightly, and Harry flinched automatically, but to his surprise, she simply laid it lightly on his shoulder.  He was sure that someone must have held him long enough to change his nappies when he was a baby, but he couldn't remember any of that.  The only times his aunt had ever touched him were to clock him upside the head after he accidentally spilled his drink or happened to be in her way as she was cooking.  At three years of age, he related his aunt's touch to fear and punishment, but there was nothing in this touch that spoke of any such thing.

  
She was being gentle.

Harry stared back at the woman in the chair and tried to fathom why she was looking at him like that.  She was watching him calmly, her eyes gazing over slightly as she stared.  Harry, being too young for glasses, looked back, emerald green eyes so large and innocent.

And then Aunt Petunia started to cry.  
  
She wasn't being loud and whiney like Dudley so often was when threw a temper tantrum; her tears were silent and meaningful.  Shaking slightly, she raised her other hand to his cheek and carefully placed it against the skin there, never taking her eyes away from his own.

"Oh, Lily..."  

Her words were quiet, but Harry heard them, though he didn't understand them.  At that age, Harry didn't have a clue as to who Lily was or why she was making his aunt cry.  He didn't know anything about his parents; he could just barely comprehend that he didn't have any.  But he knew his aunt, and though she wasn't the kindest of people, she was the only family he had.

And it hurt him that she was crying.

After standing before her for several more terrifying moments, he finally found his voice long enough to whisper, "Aunt Petunia, are you okay?"

This was seemingly all it took for her to snap out of her momentary lack of sanity.  She immediately took her hands away from him and stood up, wiping quickly at her eyes before stalking past him as if she hadn't even seen him standing there.  Harry turned around and watched as she walked briskly up the stairs to tuck her only child into bed.

And then he returned to his own bed, a pile of blankets on a cot in a tiny cupboard underneath the same set of stairs his aunt had just ascended.  He lay awake for a long time that night, remembering the way his aunt had touched him so gently, the way her tears looked as they fell down her cheeks, the helpless tone of her voice as she said that name- Lily.  And who was Lily?  Could she possibly love him in the way that his aunt never had and never would?  And he waited, for what seemed like hours, for Aunt Petunia to come and tuck him in.

  
She never did.

Twelve years later, Harry was over the idea that his parents might magically reappear and rescue him from his aunt and uncle.  He no longer held onto the desire of being tucked into bed at night or any of the other childhood rights he'd been denied.  He was too old for all of that anyway; he was fifteen years old physically and somewhere close to forty mentally.  There weren't many other teenagers who had been forced to deal with the things that Harry Potter had been faced with in his short lifetime.  But it didn't do to dwell on the past or on the promise of the inevitable future.

His parents weren't there.

  
They had never been there.

They _would _never be there.

And to top all of that off, Harry was also being forced to deal with the fact that his parents might not have been the people he'd always imagined.  In his mind, they had been perfect, good people- people who had been killed in a tragic act of love and protection for him, their only child.  

But maybe that wasn't how it happened at all.

Maybe his parents had never truly loved him; from what he'd recently been told, they had never even _wanted _him.  Maybe their marriage had been one of circumstance instead of commitment.  Maybe all of his childhood fantasies of growing up in a loving household with brothers and sisters and warm, caring parents would never have been the situation even if they had survived the attack.

Maybe he would have grown up exactly the way he'd always imagined Malfoy had.

It was no secret that Draco Malfoy had been raised in a less-than-nurturing environment.  Harry had proof of this assumption from the few occasions he'd viewed Malfoy in the company of his parents.  When he was with his parents, Malfoy was no longer the smart-mouthed intimidator he was at Hogwarts.  Quite the contrary, actually; he transformed into the intimidated, and he never spoke without first being addressed.  Of course, Harry had no way of really knowing what went on behind the closed doors of Malfoy Manor, but he saw the way they came across publicly.  Narcissa Malfoy was the epitome of the highest ranking social circle in the wizarding world.  She was stunning and always impeccably dressed and groomed; she clearly represented decades of wealth and good breeding.  Her husband, Lucius Malfoy, could clear a room anywhere he went, purely by the sheer presence of power and influence he seemed to exude.  Together publicly, Lucius and Narcissa appeared happy with each other, smiling and even occasionally touching each other.  But, of course, everyone knew what the situation really was.  Lucius could see, even sleep with, anyone he wanted to, and Narcissa's role was to pretend as though it wasn't happening.  It was an understanding, really; he got the opportunity to take other women to bed, and she got the opportunity to be _Mrs. Lucius Malfoy.  _The name in itself demanded attention and recognition.  They only had one child together, most likely because they believed in the oldest rules of society concerning namesake and inheritance.  A son was born on the first try, and there was simply no need nor was there a desire for anymore children.  It was clear that neither Narcissa nor Lucius really concerned themselves too much with their son; he was more of a trophy, a necessity, if you will- he was someone to teach the family ways to and leave the family fortune to.  

Maybe Harry's life would have been exactly like that.

His father had obviously fallen into a rather weighty inheritance somewhere down the line, and from all Harry knew, the Potters were also a well-respected Pureblooded family.  He didn't have sort of clue as to where the fortune came from or what sort of business his family took part in.  If Snape was being truthful, the Potters had also held several very old-fashioned views about the mixing of wizard and Muggle blood.  If he had survived, perhaps James Potter would have viewed his only son in the way that Lucius Malfoy viewed his own- as nothing more than a future for the family.  

Was that what his life would have been like?

Would he have grown up knowing that the only concern his parents had for him was how well he carried the family name?

With all the money his parents had possessed, the likelihood of them not using some of it to get others to raise him were very slim.  He imagined what it would be like to be raised by a series of nannies, none of them even coming close to what a real mother should.  

And what about his _real _mother?

Had she really considered him just an accident?  A fortunate accident, of course, as it had certainly done wonders for her social status and bank account.  But an accident.  He was an accident.  

She hadn't _wanted _him.

He had no mother.

Closing his eyes to the thought, Harry climbed into Ron's extra bed and tucked himself in.

**************************************

When Hope's whimpering finally died out, and the baby was quiet and still, Molly carefully placed her back into the wicker bassinet, which had seen so many other babies before it.  Hope, lying properly in her baby bed, slept on peacefully, her tiny chest rising and falling with each little breath that she took.

Molly watched her youngest child and smiled fondly, remembering so many other nights just like the one she was currently having, so many sleepless nights spent tending needy infants.  Hope was actually one of the quieter ones; she was already sleeping much longer than most babies her age, and her cries were very rarely loud wails of despair.  She was a lot like Percy in that way; he'd been the most even-tempered baby she'd ever seen, a trait, which had stayed with him growing up.

Charlie had been the most restless of her children.  He was sick and colicky from the time he'd been born, and Molly hadn't gotten an entire night of sleep until he was a full two years old.  Bill had been mostly average, cranky on certain nights but an angel on others.  The twins had always done everything in unison, and this had included midnight screams of hunger when they were infants.  Surprisingly, though, handling the twins as babies hadn't been nearly as much trouble as it had been handling Ron and Ginny together.  Neither of them were particularly fussy on their own, but there had always been an unmistakable rivalry between them, and Molly had nearly lost her mind on some nights when it seemed as if they were screaming purely for the purpose of competing with each other.  

Thinking back, she grinned at the memories of them growing up.  She had fond memories of all of her children, of course, but while her older children had gotten along fairly well and had all been rather mature for their ages and the twins had been holy terrors from the time they were born- always into something or other, messing things up and scheming up pranks, Ginny and Ron had been downright mean to each other.

There had been so many times that she'd wanted to throttle the both of them, countless occasions that she had watched them do things for no other reason than to annoy each other.  But the most memorable moments had been the times she'd caught them playing together nicely and looking out for each other.  Of course, they rarely did any of those sorts of things when they knew someone else was around.  No, but she'd often spied them playing calmly in the backyard as she watched them secretly, hidden by the curtains of the kitchen window.  

Chuckling to herself, she quietly snuck out of the tiny downstairs room, which had been transformed into a nursery and made her way up to the second landing where her own bedroom was located.  On a whim, though, she had the urge to look in on Ginny sleeping, memories of her as a little girl still fresh in her mind.  Being careful to make no noise, she slowly opened the door to her other daughter's room and peered in.  
  
Ginny was lying on top of the blankets, as she so often did due to her unnaturally hot-bloodedness.  Her hair was down and falling across the pillow freely, her pale skin illuminated by the moon's soft spring glow.  Smiling at the beauty that was her oldest daughter, Molly turned to leave again but stopped suddenly as her eyes flitted to the extra bed in Ginny's room.  It was empty.  
  
For a split second, panic hit her body full force.  She had a crazy vision of herself attempting to explain to the Grangers that their daughter had suddenly turned up _missing _for no apparent reason.  But then the vision vanished.  There was a reason, and Molly Weasley was willing to bet money that it had something to do with her own youngest son.

Now on a mission, Molly left Ginny's room and headed back up the stairs, very intent on blessing both Ron and Hermione out.  She reached the fourth floor in record time and walked directly to the only door on that landing.  She raised a fist to knock on the door but stopped almost immediately.

Twenty-six years of motherhood and eight children had left Molly's ear trained to hear things.  And a nightmare in process was one of the most recognizable of all the sounds.

Twisting the knob and pushing the door open, Molly stuck her head into the room and instantly halted.  Ron's bed, as she had expected, was empty, but that was no longer her concern at all.  No, her concern was the _occupied _bed in that room.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was lying on her son's extra bed, lost in a fit of dreams and nightmares.  He was mumbling something that she couldn't quite hear properly, so she crept closer, straining her ear to make out the words.

"No...  no, no..." he muttered intently to someone Molly could only assume was hidden behind his closed eyelids.  His head jerked slightly, and his mouth twisted up into an abnormal line.  "Don't!" he commanded firmly.  

Molly held her breath and sat gently on the edge of the bed.  She had dealt with her fair share of nightmares; raising children naturally ensued taking care of their normal fear of darkness and monsters under the bed.  But those were average nightmares, dreams that a hug and a cookie could erase from memory.  Something told her that no amount of sweets was going to vanish the visions that Harry was seeing right then.  These were a different sort of nightmares.

And she'd only seen this sort once before.  

Once again, her mind drifted back to Ginny.  As a child, she hadn't been frightened of much, but she had returned from her first year at Hogwarts as a timid, jumpy, nervous little girl, scared of everything.  And her nightmares had been like nothing Molly had even imagined.  She would actually scream out in terror, cry for hours, and refuse to go to bed at night.  Molly had tried to imagine what it would be like to prefer insomnia to a night's sleep, but she'd never been fully able to comprehend the demons and monsters that haunted her little girl each night.  

Now, watching Harry beg someone unknown for mercy, she felt her heart break.  

Harry Potter was a child.  He was no older than her own youngest children, Hope excluded.  Too much was expected of him, had always been expected of him, and it wasn't fair.  

He couldn't be expected to take care of the whole world when no one had ever taken care of _him. _

"Please, don't..." he whimpered helplessly into the darkness.

Molly placed a soothing hand to his forehead and found his face drenched with cold sweat.  Just as her mind had drifted back to memories of all her other children, she thought back to the first time she'd ever laid her eyes on this one and wondered fleetingly when she had begun thinking of him as one of her own.  The first time she saw Harry Potter, she hadn't even known it was him.  Her motherly instinct had told her that the little boy who approached her all alone and shyly asked her for help on getting onto Platform 9 and ¾ was simply a Muggle-born child whose parents had been to busy to be bothered.

She had never guessed that he was Harry Potter.

And she had certainly never expected Ron to end up being best friends with him.  But he had, and she'd immediately fallen in love with the child.  True, she was fond of most of her children's friends, but Harry wasn't like any of the others.  And no, it wasn't that he was the Boy Who Lived; his fame had never had anything to do with it.  It was the fact that he was an orphan whose life had so-far held nothing but hardship and strife.  He was so innocent and unknowing.

She had immediately felt the urge to mother him.

Over the years, Harry had become as much of a fixture in her home as the rest of her children.  Whenever she and Arthur discussed matters concerning their kids, Harry's name was always brought up, almost second-naturedly.  And if the opportunity was ever to arise, she would immediately bring him to live at the Burrow permanently; in fact, she had gotten into a rather heated argument with the Headmaster of Hogwarts over that very issue the year before while Harry had lay unconscious in an infirmary bed after the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament.  Dumbledore had insisted that the home of his Muggle aunt and uncle was the safest place for Harry at the time and had refused to budge on the issue.  He had, however, promised to allow the switch if the situation changed.

Her eyes fell on the scar that adorned Harry's forehead, and her fingertips softly slid down the length of it as she thought about all that it represented.  It had been the scar that had saved and destroyed his life all at once.  It was the only remnant of what had been the most significant moment of the wizarding world in modern history.  And just as the scar that rested on his forehead was permanent, the effects of that night would never disappear.

A whole world had been changed on that night.

  
And one little boy had lost everything.

Molly had never known Lily and James Potter, as they'd been several years younger than her.  In fact, she had already been married with children of her own when they graduated from Hogwarts.  It wasn't until 1981 that she even heard their names.

  
She remembered that morning perfectly, as though it had happened just yesterday.  She'd woken up early with a particularly fussy Ginny, who was only nine months old.  The owl post had arrived rather early, something that wasn't a common on normal mornings, but she had immediately seen the reason the second _The Daily Prophet _had been dropped into her lap.

Two people had been killed the night before, but unfortunately that headline had been quite frequent in the past.  What jumped off the page, though, was the fact that You Know Who had vanished as well.

"The only known survivor of the attack is the Potter's only child, fifteen month old Harry Potter."

Fifteen months old...  He was a _baby, _and he had done the impossible.  He had survived what hundreds of fully grown and trained witches and wizards could not.  He was the savior of the wizarding world.

Molly didn't think anything could ever amaze her as much as that newspaper article had.

  
Ten years later, she was proven very wrong.

  
The savior of the wizarding world, as she had always thought of him, turned out to be nothing more than a painfully shy little boy, too short and far too thin for his age, with horribly oversized clothes and taped together glasses that were half hidden underneath the mass of messy black hair on his head.

Of course, Harry was no longer the tiny and timid eleven year old that she'd once known.  He had grown up a lot over the past five years, shooting up several inches and putting on a good number of much-needed pounds.  He was still on the short side, but he probably always would be.  His hair was as messy as ever, and the glasses, though properly fixed, were still the same ones he had worn back then.  He wasn't as shy; he could even be considered talkative when the subject turned to something interesting to him like Quidditch.  But he still hated being the center of attention.

"I didn't mean to..." he whispered desperately to the pillow.  "Please don't!"

She wondered what he was dreaming of and realized that she didn't want to know.  Dreams were a private thing, both those that were good and those that were bad.  If he perchance wanted to talk about his nightmare, she would be more than willing to listen, but she wouldn't ask, nor would she continue to imagine what he was seeing.  That was for him, and she would allow him that.

His body jerked from side to side rapidly for a few seconds, and then he jerked upright into a sitting position, his eyes still closed and giving away his still slumbering state.  Molly reached for his shoulders in order to steady him and keep him from falling off the bed, but to her surprise, Harry fell forward into her arms, his face pressing into her shoulder.  Not knowing what else to do, Molly did the only natural and instinctive thing.

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him.

As soon as he was safely in her embrace, she felt him begin to tremble.  His voice was so quiet that she just barely heard it.

"Mum?"

Molly closed her eyes and bit down hard on her lower lip.  He was asleep, and he had stared to cry.  She had never seen him cry, and she never imagined that she would.  Harry was a private person, a very unemotional one as well.  But now, as he was lost somewhere in a dream, tears slid down his cheeks and soaked through the material of her nightgown.  He was shaking; his body was tensed and frightened.

He was just a _baby._

Molly wanted to cry, too, but she didn't.  Her tears would do nothing to help the young man who was huddled in her arms; crying for him would only make him a charity case.  And he _wasn't _a charity case.  He was one of her own.

Not by blood but by every single thing that truly mattered.

And just as she would have done for any of her others, she made up her mind to protect him with every breath in her body.  Another woman did exactly that for him fourteen years before.  

And, no, Molly wasn't his birth mother.  She wasn't Lily Potter, and she didn't want to be.  She wasn't asking to be a replacement because there could be no such thing.  But Lily Potter had done everything in her power to protect her son, and to do this, she'd given up the most precious thing any mother could dream of.

  
She had never seen her baby grow up.

But Molly Weasley had.  And while she wasn't really his mother, she would do her best to provide him with the motherly guidance that all children his age needed.  She would take care of him, support him, watch him grow.    
  
She would love him.

Just as she loved all her other children.

Harry eventually stopped trembling, and she could no long hear him mumbling mindlessly through random tears.  Carefully, she lay him back to the pillow and pulled the blanket up around him, tucking him into bed for, what was unbeknownst to her, the first time in his life since his parents.

A noise behind her caused her to turn her head slightly and look toward the doorway.  Ron was standing there, still dressed in the clothes he'd worn that whole day and looking incredibly guilty.  He had stopped dead in his tracks and was staring back at his mother with an extremely nervous look.

"Where have you been?" she asked calmly, smoothing Harry's blanket once more and standing up.

Ron glanced behind her at Harry's bed and then looked back to his mother.  "Um," he said quietly.  "I was just...  I just went for a walk."

She nodded expressionlessly.  "Is Hermione in bed now?"

Ron turned a bit pink and looked to his feet.  "It wasn't...  It was my..."  He met Molly's eye, and she raised a single eyebrow to reiterate her question.  Nodding slightly, he mumbled, "Yes."

Molly pushed a curl away from her eyes and nodded again.

"Look, Mum," he said sullenly.  "I'm really sorry, okay?  We won't just sneak..."  
  
But she shook her head.  "Okay."

Ron stopped mid-sentence and stared in disbelief.  It was clear that he had expected to be in trouble or, at the very least, get blessed out properly.  And doing just that had been Molly's original intent, but that was no longer her concern.  

"What's..." Ron furrowed his brow a little and looked toward the extra bed, "... wrong with Harry?"

Molly turned and glanced once more at the sleeping teenager; he was no longer restless and tortured.  He appeared to be sleeping peacefully now.  "He's fine now.  Just a bit of a rough night."  
  
Ron looked ashen for a moment and then nodded wordlessly, walking to his own bed and fumbling with the blankets.  

"He has them frequently, doesn't he?"

Ron stared at the bedspread before shrugging a single shoulder.  

Molly sighed and crossed her arms over her chest.  "How often?" she asked pointedly.

Ron didn't face her; he just continued to tug his blankets until they were lying half off the bed.  "I don't know," he said blankly.  

"You were never a good liar, Ron," she said smoothly, though she did find the fact that Ron wouldn't betray Harry's trust quite admirable.  

Ron stopped turning down his bed and sighed dejectedly.  "A lot."

Molly didn't answer; she'd expected as much.  Instead, she just nodded and pursed her lips slightly.  "Are _you _okay?" she asked carefully.

It was a loaded question.  It was the sort of question that mothers across the world prided them on, simple and basic and liable for any number of different answers.

"Me?" Ron asked curiously.  "Yeah, sure.  Why?"

She just shrugged.  "Just making sure," she said simply.  "Things are a lot different now than they used to be."  
  


Ron nodded sullenly.  "Yeah, no kidding."

"Take care of him," she said quietly, both of them knowing perfectly well who she was referring to.

Ron looked slightly embarrassed but ducked his head slightly in a nod.  

Molly looked at her youngest son and realized for the first time that he wasn't still a little boy.  Of course, Ron had always been tall for his age, but his face had always had a childish light to it, his eyes a mirror of innocence.

That was all gone now.

And suddenly, she wanted to cry.  

But she wouldn't.  Not in front of Ron.  Not in front of any of them.  She was the mother, the pillar of strength.  The world as they all knew it was crumbling around them, but she was going to stand tall and tell them all that it would be alright.

When she had no way of knowing if things would ever be alright again.

So, instead of crying, she opted to wrap her arms around her youngest son and hug him.  He seemed surprised at first, but he reluctantly returned the embrace.  He was so big now, so much bigger than he'd been when he'd left for Hogwarts all those years ago.  In her mind's eye, that was when he'd stopped growing.  She knew, of course, that he returned each summer taller and thicker than the summer before, but she always had an image of him as a ten year old in what would be his last full year at home.  For two years, he'd gotten the chance to be the oldest sibling in the house, and he clearly enjoyed the power; Molly had watched fondly as he strutted around, taking his responsibility as the eldest at-home child very seriously.

  
He would never grow any older than that in her mind.

"And take care of yourself," she whispered almost longingly, running a hand through his thick locks.  Growing up, whenever Ron was sick, Molly would have no choice but to spend hours fingering his hair, as it was the only thing that could calm him long enough to put him to sleep.  She closed her eyes at the flood of memories and finally released her hold on him.

She smiled softly and started for the door.  "Don't go sneaking out again," she said as an after-though before leaving his room.

  
And once she was safely in the fourth floor hallway, she let herself cry.

*************************************************

Ah, the power of angst...

  
Please review!!!


	67. Author's Note

A/N: I just realized that I left this hanging. Since reading OotP, I have decided to stop writing "When Things Start to Change." Various reasons attributed to this decision, not the least of which was that it is now completely non-canonical.  
  
However, I have started a sixth year fic by the name of "Living in the New World." It is posted under my new SN, crispyone. All of my post-OotP work will be posted there under crispyone.  
  
I am sorry for not announcing this sooner, but I guess I just imagined that everyone would read my notice at the Yahoo! group. I've realized now that this story has fans who do not belong to that group, and to those people, I am sorry for keeping you waiting.  
  
The Yahoo! group is now a home for all of my new stories and will be getting a new name in the future. To access it now, please visit: groups.yahoo.com/group/when_things_change/  
  
Please check out my new works and once again, thank you to everyone who has been so faithful to this story. I thoroughly enjoyed writing it, and I am very pleased that so many people enjoyed it. (  
  
Ash  
  
The story ID of "Living in the New World' is story id: 1434156 


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